love is nothing (but a weakness)
by Tarafina
Summary: In the end, she'll always be a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and there's only so much rebelling a Huckleberry like him can do. [AU, the gang grows up in Texas, where Maya's an outsider growing up in a trailer park and Lucas is a golden boy living in suburbia; paths cross, sparks fly, and love is fragile]
1. pipe dream

**title** : love is nothing (but a weakness) **  
category** : girl meets world  
 **genre** : romance/angst/friendship/humor **  
ship** : maya/lucas  
 **chapter rating** : pg-13  
 **overall rating** : mature **  
warning(s)** : strong language, sexual content  
 **timeline** : set in senior year of high school  
 **summary** : In the end, she'll always be a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and there's only so much rebelling a Huckleberry like him can do. [AU, the gang grows up in Texas, where Maya's an outsider growing up in a trailer park and Lucas is a golden boy living in suburbia; paths cross, sparks fly, and love is fragile]

* * *

 **i.**

When Maya was a little girl, she and her mama used to take little trips. They'd pile into Katy's beat up old Sedan with its rusty door and the heater that worked one day and not the next, and they'd drive around. Katy called it house hunting, and as a little girl, Maya let herself believe it was a dream that would one day come to fruition. They would drive by the nicest houses in the whole town, with their green lawns and multiple stories. Their mailboxes with the family surname painted prettily on the side. The flowerbeds kept in pristine condition, looking like something out of a magazine for Home & Garden.

And sometimes, with their bag of drive-thru McDonalds, they'd idle by a curb and watch as a family sat down at their dining room table, held hands as they said Grace, and then dug into a home cooked meal on their best dishes. With each house they passed, Maya would declare "I want that one," or "That one's my new favorite," and Katy would nod and say, "Yeah, it's nice, isn't it? You think it's got a pool? We'll need a nice pool in the summers." Together, they would map out what each house looked like on the inside, guessing how many bedrooms and bathrooms there were, and how big the kitchen was and what kind of food they made there. Until it grew late and Maya would yawn and Katy would check the time and mutter that she had to get up early tomorrow for a shift at the diner. So they would take that beat-up old car back over to their own neighborhood, climb the steps to their trailer, and return to reality.

For years, Maya would build up the image of her _perfect_ house in her head, with everything her and her mother could ever want or need. Later, when she found an interest in drawing, she would put memory to paper and map out what every inch of it would look like. She'd tuck that memory away in a musty drawer of a desk she rarely used, to collect dust and the cobwebs of a time in her life when she believed in miracles.

By the time she's a teenager, Maya's stopped dreaming of houses they'll never live in. She's stopped hoping for pools or home cooked meals or the big family that holds hands and thanks some omnipotent being for their food. Maya knows who put the food on their table, what little of it there was, and it wasn't some bearded dude; it was her mother. A woman that worked two jobs and barely had enough time to come home and sleep before she was back up and working again, all just to get the bills paid. There was no time for sitting by the pool or tending to non-existent flower gardens. Katy had her hands full working overtime.

There's still a lingering fascination though. Not so much with the houses, even if they are pretty, but with the people that live in those nice neighborhoods, with their expensive cars and fancy homes and dinners served each night at the same time. Sometimes she wanders through the neighborhood, her sketchbook under her arm as she rides her skateboard down the center of the road. She'd draw the houses or the flowers or the yipping pets that sat in windows all day long. She'd draw the children on leashes, dragging their parents, glued to their cellphones or walking in packs as they discussed PTA meetings and book clubs.

Sometimes she'd sit on the curb and draw the cookie cutter people that looked nothing like her and her mama, and she'd wonder if they had faults and weaknesses and days when they cried themselves to sleep because they were just _so tired_ and nothing in life was ever better or easier. She wondered if any of the mothers there pasted on a smile while their eyes were full of sadness, and if they knew what it felt like to struggle each and every month just to keep the lights on. If they had to save up all their tips just to get a birthday present for their kid. _One_ present. And hopefully that was enough, because it _had_ to be. It was all they could afford. She wonders, but she never asks. Not because it's rude, she's never much cared for that, but because, in a strange way, she feels like an outsider looking in, detached from their reality. Like she is a scientist with a magnifying glass and they are all ants.

What she doesn't expect is for one of them to sit down beside her one day. He doesn't say anything at first. Just sits on the curb and looks over her shoulder at her sketch before he casts his eyes in the same direction as her, to see what it is she's drawing. It's a boy, not more than eight, with shaggy brown hair, and a blonde girl that rolls her eyes more than any other human Maya has ever seen. The girl's got her hands on her hips and she's tapping her foot as she rants about something while the boy stares up at her in adoration. When the girl finally turns on her heel, flips her hair over her shoulder, and walks away, the boy stares after her as he sighs, and Maya can almost see the little animated hearts floating around his head; she's sure to add them to her own drawing. He murmurs 'Ava' to himself with the sort of longing a boy his age shouldn't be capable of, before he finally walks away. Maya wonders how long this kid has been playing with fire and how long he'll keep playing.

The boy next to her pipes up then. "That's Auggie Matthews, he and Ava got married three years ago. It was a big to-do; they invited the whole neighborhood. We had a community barbecue."

Maya's brows hike before she turns to look at him. "Married?"

He grins, all blue eyed and friendly. "There's not much you can do when a five-year-old tells you he has a wife but accept it. Besides, they were offering cake and the ribs were cooked so well, they were fallin' right off the bone. I wasn't about to turn those down for anything."

Maya hums. "Well, I hope the crazy kids make it," she decides, before closing her book and pushing up to stand. She stretches her arms up high to loosen up the muscles that have been locked into place since she started sketching and then puts a foot on her skateboard to redirect it toward the road.

He stands with her. "You're leaving?"

She looks back at him. "It's getting late, Sundance. I've got a long ride home. I don't live in the kind of neighborhood you should be hanging around in when it's dark."

He frowns, looking conflicted. "I could drive you, if you like. Make sure you get home safe."

She snorts, and then frowns when she sees he's serious. "You don't even _know_ me..."

"Well, maybe I'd like to fix that." He thrusts a hand out toward her. "I'm Lucas Friar. I live just around the corner from here. I've seen you around, on your skateboard... I think you were drawing my mama's rose bushes last week... She took first prize for those; she's real proud of them."

"She should be; they're nice." She glances at his hand and then shrugs and reaches for it. "Maya Hart."

"Hey, don't you go to my school…? I heard something about an art competition on the announcements. Someone named Hart won it last year; it was some big thing. There was a scholarship or something, wasn't there?"

She shrugs. "Yeah. I won, I guess. The school's in New York though, so I probably won't do anything with it."

"New York?" He whistles. "That'd be something."

"Yeah, I guess." She shuffles her board around under her foot. "Anyway, I really gotta get going. I wasn't kidding about the sketchy neighborhood thing." She tucks her book under her arm. "Nice meeting you, Hop-Along."

He laughs. "It's Lucas."

"I know what it is." She steps onto her board. "And I know what I said."

As she pushes off and starts down the street, she can feel his eyes following her. But, much as her curiosity bids her to look back, she doesn't. He's just a pretty house she'll never have; it's best not to start dreaming.

She gets home a half hour later, drops her book on the couch, and makes herself a pot of mac n' cheese. It isn't until she's ignoring her homework and watching a Gilmore Girls re-run that she finds herself skimming through her book to find those pretty roses she'd drawn the week before. They really were nice. And in the background, through the window, there's a silhouette she'd caught. She wonders if it was him. _Lucas_. She almost can't believe he tried to give her a ride home… What a Huckleberry.


	2. fortune cookie

**chapter rating** : pg-13  
 **summary** : In the end, she'll always be a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and there's only so much rebelling a Huckleberry like him can do. [AU, the gang grows up in Texas, where Maya's an outsider growing up in a trailer park and Lucas is a golden boy living in suburbia; paths cross, sparks fly, and love is fragile]

* * *

 **ii.**

Over the next few weeks, Maya finds herself too busy to wander back out to the _other side_. She's behind on a few assignments, she's taken a few shifts at the diner to help out, and she's got an art piece she's been struggling to get down. But eventually, when she needs a break from everything, she grabs her board and her book and she takes off. It's almost definitely too late; the street lamps are just turning on, and by the time she heads home, she knows she'll have to be careful about which road she takes. Most of her neighbors are good people just trying to get by. But there are a few creeps that hang around the area, making things difficult when they're already hard enough.

There's no Auggie Matthews or Ava out in the street today. For the most part, people are sitting down to dinner, like it was unanimously decided that everybody would stay inside after five o'clock. She trips around for a while, just skating down the road in an 'S' pattern, taking up as much of the street as she can. She's seen other kids playing on their scooters, but she hasn't seen any of them on skateboards. Maybe it's the noise that calls him out, but eventually a door opens and Lucas ambles out of his house and makes his way down to sit on the street curb, arms crossed atop his knees, and just watches her. She's not doing tricks or putting on a show for him, but he seems to like watching her move all the same.

It's a few minutes before she eventually moves toward him and comes to a stop just in front of him, so her board bumps his leg.

He looks up at her, half-smiling. "You've been away a while."

"Keeping tabs on me, Ranger Rick?"

He shrugs. "Maybe I am."

"Don't you guys have some kind of neighborhood watch or something? You should report the strange blonde girl on the skateboard." She scrunches her nose up. "She's a menace."

His mouth twitches. "I'll keep that in mind…" He looks her up and down. "So I guess you got home okay."

"Yup."

"I was a little worried, after what you said, about it being a bad neighborhood to be in at night…" He casts his eyes upward meaningfully.

"Well, we can't all live in Utopia. But I grew up there, so it's fine. I know how to handle it."

"You think this place is Utopia?" His brows arch. "It's not perfect out here. Just because it looks that way on the outside doesn't mean it reflects what's going on inside."

Maya snorts. "How very fortune cookie of you."

"I'm just sayin'…" He frowns. "Don't judge a book by its cover."

Humming, she shrugs. "Well, seeing as I'll never read it, it's the only thing I _can_ judge."

Tipping his head, he stares up at her curiously. "So why do you come out here then? You draw the houses and the people, but… You don't seem to like it."

"It's not that I don't like it… I envy it. And when you spend enough time envying something, you start to resent it. And then you resent what you have and who gave it to you and that you don't have something else, something better."

"Well, what if it isn't better? What if you just _think_ it's better?"

Maya's mouth turned up in a cynical smile. "Trust me, anywhere that's got heat and hot water and a full fridge of food is miles ahead of where I'm at." She shakes her head. "Don't get me wrong, my mom tries. She works her ass off to give us what we've got. But we still struggle, every day, just to get by. So yeah, maybe I'm just basing it on the outside of the house and what I see when I skate by every once in a while. But I know the lights are always on and the lawn is always green and the car always has gas in it. It's the little things, Huckleberry. The people that live out here take them for granted, because they never have to worry about them. But us… All we do is worry."

Brow knit, he stares at the ground a while. "Maybe it is harder in that way, but at least you know your mom tries. That she _wants_ better for you. Sure, we don't have to worry about money or bills, but we've got other things."

"Yeah?" She scoffs. "Like what?"

His eyes jump up toward her. "My dad's having an affair. My mom knows about it, but… She doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything. She knows that when he leaves at night, he won't be back 'til morning. And she just… She tells me he's at work and then she locks herself in her room and she thinks I can't hear her crying, but I can." His hands ball up into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. "Part of me wants her to end it, to kick him out and send him packing. But I know we can't afford everything without him. I know she's worried about what everyone will think if it comes out he's got a mistress and they're getting divorced. She'd be humiliated all over again."

Maya doesn't answer right away, she just stares at him. "You know it's not your fault, right? You don't have to fix anything."

"I want to help her."

"And you want to stick it to your dad, right?"

His jaw ticks. "Maybe. I don't know…" Licking his lips, he looks up at her. "Yeah, I do. I know it's wrong, but I can't help it. I just… The way he treated her. What he's doing. Leaving, lying like that, acting like it's okay…"

"At least he comes back," she mutters.

" _Yeah_." He scoffs. "Comes back, showers, goes to work. Starts the whole thing over again. He's on his phone all through dinner, can't be bothered to talk to us, then suddenly he's got to head back into work, it's real serious…" He rolls his eyes.

Maya steps off her board and sighs. She takes a seat on the curb beside him and looks out over the empty road. "My dad left when I was a kid. He wasn't cut out for playing house, I guess. And my mom… Well, she coped. She divorced him and took over doing everything. She had to be both parents and she wasn't great at juggling. For a long time, it felt like I had half a mom, because she was always at work and she didn't have time to help me with homework or talk to me or even have dinner with me. When I was little, she'd try to make it up to me by taking me out on these drives. She'd bring something from the diner or we'd get drive-thru and then we'd come out here and we'd look at the houses and pick which one was our favorite and which one we wanted to live in and how _amazing_ it would be when we got there… And when I was a kid, I thought, _yeah_ , it will be. One day I'm going to live out here and I'll be happy and mom won't work so much and I won't see her struggling to pick which bill she'll pay this month, because she can't pay them all. And then I grew up and I realized we were never getting out. We weren't made for cookie cutter, just like my dad wasn't made to be a father, and yours wasn't made to be a husband." She shrugs. "Life just is what it is, and whatever it is, it loves to kick our ass."

He turns to her, mouth turned up faintly. "You think they might put that in a fortune cookie one day?"

Maya laughs. "Fingers crossed." She pushes up from the curb then and stands on her board. "Thanks for the talk, Huckleberry. It was _enlightening_."

Smiling as he stands, he shakes his head. "You ever going to use my name?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

With that, she skates away, waving a hand back at him over her shoulder. She doesn't look to see if he'll wake back. He's a dream she doesn't have the luxury of enjoying.

* * *

 **author's note** : _these chapters are going to get longer, these are just a few of the initial first meetings. but starting probably next chapter, we'll see them begin to lengthen as the story gets meatier._

 _i hope you're enjoying things so far. if you can, please try to leave a review!_

 _thanks!_  
 **\- lee | fina**


	3. tax brackets

**chapter rating** : pg-13  
 **word count** : 2,137

* * *

 ** _love is nothing (but a weakness)_**

 **iii.**

Maya doesn't actively seek Lucas out at school, but she does see him in passing. He's a senior like her, but he's in all AP classes, so they don't really cross paths in the classroom setting. A jock, he predominately spends his time hanging out with the other boys in letterman jackets, with an emphasis on Zay Babineaux. But there are a few outliers; Farkle Minkus, the resident genius, and a pretty girl named Riley Matthews. Presumably, the older sister of Auggie. She's not sure what the deal is with Lucas and Riley, but she walks by to see the brunette staring up at him with the same heart-eyes her brother had perfected for Ava. Maya ducks her head and decides she doesn't want to know.

Lucas Friar was just a _boy_. So they talked and bared a little soul and got intensely honest about their damaged home lives. But so what? This wasn't some Cinderella story where he saved her from her crappy trailer or she fixed his parents' marital issues. His dad was a jerk; she hoped his mom did whatever would make her happiest. If that involved kicking Friar Senior's ass to the curb, then all the power to her. But Maya isn't invested or anything. And to prove it, she decides to stay away from Lucas and his perfect little neighborhood. Life goes on, and she is doing herself no favors by lingering somewhere she can never stay.

So Maya focuses on her art and her part-time shifts at the diner. She gives her mom her pay check and her tips and slowly the pile of bills seems to decrease. A few more weeks pass by and her mom starts wondering what she plans on doing next summer, if she's going to check out the New York Academy of Art before Fall semester begins. But Maya changes the subject and distracts her with something else. Because she can't think about New York and the scholarship she'll never act on. If she leaves, her mom will have no one to help her pay the bills. And besides, New York is _huge_ and she doesn't even know what she'd do there. Sure, there was school, and the scholarship covered her tuition, but what about rent and food and everything else? She'd have to get a part-time job and she doesn't even know where she'd start.

What if art just isn't for her? What if she goes and it all blows up in her face? What if she gets there and they realize the project she did that won was just a fluke and she has nothing left in her that's worth keeping here there? The idea of actually pursuing art is terrifying, because she just knows she'll fail. Because that's all she's ever done. Maya Hart is not someone that people would bet their last dollar on. She's too rough around the edges, too wild, too outspoken, and too unmotivated. The only thing she has ever loved is her art, and if they tell her it's not good enough, what will she have left?

No. It's better to keep what little she has for as long as she has it. For once in her life, she decides not to rock the boat.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Avoiding Lucas and his utopia of a neighborhood is going fine and dandy, until he decides it isn't.

"You always hide out in the art room?"

Maya blinks, drawn out of her focus, and turns to see Lucas standing a few feet away, staring at her painting. "You always sneak up on people and _lurk_?"

"Not lurking, _admiring_." He grins. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm not hiding, I'm working." She twirls a brush around pointedly. "What are you doing?"

"I told you… I'm admiring." Crossing his arms, he steps closer and looks at her painting thoughtfully. "It's a door."

"Bravo. If I could hand out gold stars, you would absolutely get one. I might even add glitter and a pat on the back."

Unperturbed by her sarcasm, he tips his head. "The door's open though, so it could be a good thing. There's a light on in the inside, so maybe it's like… Hope?"

"Door's only open a crack, so you don't really know what's on the other side. The light could be anything. For all you know, the person opening the door is about to _rob_ the place." She hops down from her seat and gathers her brushes to rinse them off. Lunch is almost over anyway and she needs to clean up.

"Well, you're the artist… What's it really mean?"

"Art is subjective. We all find what we want to find in it. We're all looking for something different."

"Sure, but what were you _trying_ to paint…" He pivots to see her, his hands tucked in his jean pockets.

She stares at him a long moment, and then turns her attention to her painting. "It's not hope. It's… uncertainty. There's a door and if you open it, you don't know what's on the other side. Maybe it's good, maybe it isn't. But it's there and you either open it all the way and face what's behind it, or you walk away and never find out."

She goes back to cleaning everything up then, putting her focus elsewhere, but Lucas lingers. He stands and stares at her still-drying painting, searching for… _something_. And when she's finally done and she moves to stand next to him, she asks, "How's your mom?"

He blinks and looks over at her. "She's… sad. I think she's given up on pretending she isn't."

"Good." Maya lifts her chin as she looks up at him. "Pretending doesn't fix anything. Just prolongs the pain." With that, she grabs her painting and moves it to the back of the room to dry. He's holding her bag up for her when she turns around and she crosses the room to take it from him.

"You hang out here a lot?" he wonders.

"The teacher lets me work on things here. It's easier to get projects done over lunch than it is at home."

He nods. "It's nice. Peaceful."

"I play music sometimes, but other times it's distracting." She walks toward the door then. "How'd you end up here anyway?"

The bell rings before he can answer, and Maya shakes her head. "See you around, Huckleberry."

He smiles in reply, and she walks out of the room and toward her history class. She tells herself it doesn't matter why he was there; it's unlikely he'll drop by again.

She's wrong.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Three days. He's shown up every lunch hour for three days.

"Is there something wrong with the library? You really need to do your homework in here?" Maya turns on her stool to see him with his books laid out across an art table.

Lucas grins. "You don't like my company?"

"No, I'm confused by it. You've never shown an interest in the art room before…" She shakes her head. "Do your friends know you're here? Because if this place becomes overrun with jocks…"

"Nobody knows I'm here." He laughs lightly. "I just wanted a quiet place to get some work done. And I figure you'll be busy with your paintings, so you can do you thing and I can do mine."

"Okay…" She frowns. "But again, I ask, what's wrong with the library?"

"I like it here." He shrugs.

Shaking her head, she gives up, and decides to just focus on her own work. She gathers up her paints and brushes and the canvas she's been working on. As long as he leaves her be, things will be fine. They can share the space and that's it.

It's hard at first; she's too aware of him. Of where he is and what he's doing and the scratching of his pencil on paper. She feels like she's on display, like he's judging and critiquing every swipe of her brush. But when she looks over, his head is down and he's focused on his work. Slowly, she starts to really get into what she's doing and forgets he's even there at all. Paint stains her hands and the cover she's wearing as everything comes together in a bright display of… something. She's not sure yet. She has a half-baked vision in her head that she's trying to complete as she goes.

Then she feels a tap on her shoulder.

"Lunch is up in a few minutes. Thought you might want to clean up before the bell rings."

Blinking, she looks around quickly and then glances at the clock. " _Oh_."

He smiles at her, and it looks a little smug for reasons she can't figure out. Maya grabs her brushes and makes her way to the sink. When she looks back over her shoulder, Lucas is putting her stool away and moving her canvas to the back, where she put the last one, before he moves the easel over with the others.

As she walks toward him, he hands her bag to her, and she eyes him curiously.

"See you tomorrow," he says, and then tips his chin down and walks off.

Frowning after him, she turns in the opposite direction. She has chemistry next, but her mind lingers on the Friar boy enough that she doesn't get much done. Later, she'll liken him to Auggie. A boy playing with fire and expecting not to get burned.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya's favorite day of the week is Friday, but today has been feeling _off_ since she woke up. She's been struggling to get something down on the canvas, but it's like pulling teeth. Nothing is coming out right.

"You should visit sometime."

Maya looks up from her painting and cranes her head to see Lucas sitting at a nearby desk. "Huh?"

"You don't come out anymore… I haven't seen you out on your skateboard in a few weeks."

Shrugging, Maya turns back to her canvas. "I've got things to do. Can't always visit the other side of the tracks."

She can hear the confusion in his voice as he asks, "Tracks?"

"Yeah, you know… I'm from the wrong side of the tracks, you're from the right side. Metaphorically speaking, anyway." A streak of yellow paint blooms before her eyes, but she frowns; it seems too bright all of a sudden.

"Who says which side is right or wrong?"

"Tax brackets."

He hums, and she can hear the argument brewing up inside him.

Maya rolls her eyes. "It's not a debate, Sundance. It's just a statement."

"Statements can be debated. Just because you say something like a fact doesn't mean it is one."

"There's that fortune cookie wisdom again." She grins as she looks back at him. "Why do you want me to visit so bad anyway?"

He stares at her. "Maybe I just like talking to you."

Her heart thuds a little in her chest, but she blames indigestion, because whatever that was it couldn't be what she thought it was. "We're talking right now."

Shaking his head a little, he says, "It's not the same."

"Yeah, nothing like sitting on a dirty street curb at night," she sighs sarcastically.

" _Maya_ ," he says, frowning.

"Look, I think you're getting the wrong idea about what we are." She hops off her stool. "We're not friends. We're not confidants. We're just people. We talked, we got a little too honest, and now we see each other from time to time. And it might feel like we have some strange connection, but we _don't_. The tracks might be metaphorical, but there's a reason they're there. I cross them because I'm curious and I like to remind myself that some doors close for a reason, and you shouldn't waste your life dreaming about something that will _never_ happen. But you… You're always going to be on the right side of the tracks. Even if your parents get a divorce and you have to leave Utopia for a while. You'll still find a way to make it work. Because people like you always bounce back, while people like me just sink deeper." She grabs her bag off the floor and marches toward the door then. Because she's said her peace and she has nothing left to add.

She's at the door when he says, "There's a reason there was a light on behind that door… It didn't have to be. It could've been dark and uninviting and empty, but it wasn't. You _want_ to hope, Maya, you're just too scared to."

She wants to lash out at him, to tell him he doesn't know what fear is and he has no right to call her a coward. Instead, she keeps walking. Lucas Friar wasn't a part of her life before, and she'll be glad when he isn't again.

* * *

 ** _thanks for reading! please try to leave a review, if you can!_**


	4. purpose

**chapter rating** : pg-13  
 **word count** : 3,532

* * *

 ** _love is nothing (but a weakness)_**

 **iv.**

Maya can feel her mom's eyes on her, following her every jerking movement as she stalks her way out from behind the counter to a table, serving out food. Her shitty mood has been holding strong all week. She's been staying away from the art room since her little ' _debate_ ' with Lucas, refusing to go anywhere near him. Instead, she busies herself elsewhere, mostly taking on more shifts at the diner and sitting in the library, catching up on homework she didn't have time to do after school and work. She sees him at school sometimes, out of the corner of her eye as she passes. Sometimes he's talking to Zay Babineaux or laughing with Farkle Minkus or smiling at Riley Matthews, and she's reminded that his life is miles different from hers. He has friends and teammates and a possible girlfriend, and all Maya has is her mom. In the end, he's just a blip on her radar, a brief distraction, and it's time she forget him completely.

Food served, Maya makes her way back around to the other side of the counter and puts her focus on refilling the napkin dispensers.

"Are you okay?" Katy wonders, sidling up to her. "You've been like this all week." She reaches out to brush a stray strand of Maya's hair back, tucking it behind her ear. "You know you can talk to me, right? If something's going on…"

Sighing, Maya looks up at her. "It's nothing. I'm just stressed about school." At her mom's skeptical look, she insists, " _Seriously_. I'll get over it."

"Okay…" Katy rubs her shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

Maya forces a smile and nods, and a few seconds later, Katy is off, smiling at a customer and getting back to work.

Maya puts her attention back on the napkin dispensers and frowns. She doesn't regret what she said. She's just… _frustrated_. Why did he keep insisting that they hang our or that she visit? She never should've talked to him. For all his talk of books not being like their covers, he still didn't get it. Whatever cover they slapped on him, his book was still filled with a hell of a lot more than hers would be. Maybe that's why she was upset. Because somehow he didn't see the clear line between them, of who he was and where he came from in comparison to herself.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya's week isn't going well. She's tired and cranky and fed up with every aspect of her life. After throwing out three different letters about her scholarship, dodging her mom's persistent, worried questions, and working herself to the bone to make some extra money, she just feels _done_. It's lunch, and she was late getting up, leaving her no time to slap together even a half-assed sandwich before she was out the door. Now she's got her chem homework open in front of her and she's struggling not to fall asleep; the librarian hates when she does that. And of course, because the universe _hates_ her, Lucas Friar, of all people, takes a seat across from her.

Maya groans.

"All right, I know you're not happy with me," he says in greeting, holding his hands up in surrender, "but I've come to apologize."

She looks up from her textbook and frowns. " _Really_ …?"

He nods. "Yeah. I think I might've overstepped my boundaries a little—"

"A little?" Maya snorts.

His lips purse. "I just… I don't know. I thought we connected out there, and I liked it. I like how it felt."

Shifting in her seat, she directs her gaze to her books. "You've got plenty of people to talk to. I hardly think you need me around."

"I do. I have people. Great people. But… They don't really get it. I mean, Farkle's parents are, like, millionaires, and Riley's parents are _perfect_ , and Zay's family is awesome. I—I haven't even told them about my dad, about the divorce papers my mom has in her office. She already signed them, she just hasn't given them to him yet. And I know they'd be supportive, I know they'd just want to help, but… I don't know. It's just different. They've never had to deal with this kind of stuff, so it's nice to have someone who understands it."

Maya glances at him, and then back to her books. "Much as I'd like to be your token broken friend, my schedule's pretty packed."

"Come on, you know that's not what I mean…" He sighs. "Maya, I like you."

"You don't _know_ me. So I've told you a few stories from my dungeon of sadness, that doesn't mean you know me. You can't build a friendship on mutual misery."

"It's not all misery," he insists. "That's why I came to the art room. So we could talk. So I could see your paintings and maybe we could have something else, something happier to talk about!"

Shaking her head, she wonders, "What is your deal? I don't _get_ you."

"Well, maybe we can change that." He smiles slowly. "Just _talk_ to me."

"About _what?_ "

"About art! About New York! About _anything_!"

The librarian _shushes_ him irritably and he ducks his head, waving a hand in apology. To Maya, he whispers. "Can we go somewhere else? _Please_?"

"I have nothing to talk about. I have homework that I need to do, because I have work tonight."

"Well, then, let me help you with it," he suggests. "I'm good at…" He checks her book. "History?" He lights up. "I'm great at history!"

Maya rolls her eyes. "You don't give up, do you?"

He grins. "Not when it's important."

Shaking her head, she hesitates, but then pushes a book toward him. "I'm collecting research for an essay…"

Smiling brighter, he takes up the book to give her a hand, and she's pretty sure she'll regret it, but she opens the door a little wider.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya's feet hurt like hell. She lets out a sigh of relief as she slides onto a stool, her shift over and her tips a little better than she's used to. As soon as she stops moving, she can feel every inch of her body begin to ache. These are the days she wishes their trailer had a bathtub and not just a cramped shower stall. Laying in a bubble bath until every inch of her is a wrinkled prune sounds pretty amazing right about now. When she was little, her mom used to haul her over to her nana's for a bath. It was an inconvenience, but it was the only way she could get Maya to bathe for the longest time. Fill the tub with bubbles and toys and use the ledges as a battlefield between her GI Joes and troll dolls. The trolls always won, and when her nana asked her why, she said it was because anyone who could rock hair that bright deserved to win.

A stab of nostalgia, mixed with lingering grief, rushes through her, and she finds herself missing her grandmother. Nana Hart left her own apartment and moved in with them for the last few years of her life, during which Maya had been a miserable and, often, rebellious teenager struggling to get through middle school. Even on her worst days though, her nana took her attitude with the same, amused twinkle in her eye, telling her more than once, "You remind me of myself at your age. I hope you never grow out of that wild streak of yours." And Maya tried her best not to.

"Here."

Shaken from her thought, she looks up as Katy slides a grilled tuna sandwich in front of her. "My favourite." She breathes it in and smiles. "What's this for?"

"You worked hard today, you deserve it."

" _Okay_ …" Her eyes narrow as she breaks the sandwich into pieces and stuffs a chunk in her mouth. "What's it _really_ for?"

Katy rolls her eyes, smiling. "I'm just glad you're out of your funk is all. And you really did seem like you put in more effort today. Even the customers thought so. I think you even smiled at a few of 'em."

"I smile," she mutters, defensively.

"You smirk, honey, there's a difference." Katy reaches out to squeeze her chin affectionately, giving it a little shake. "Anyway, eat up. I'm almost done and then I can drive us home."

Maya nods, her mouth full. She watches her mom as she returns to serving the last of her customers and grabs a few napkins out of the nearest dispenser, wiping her greasy fingers on them. Her mood has improved, she knows this, but she refuses to acknowledge what, or rather _who_ , might be the cause of it. She wasn't happier because of _him_ , she was just… less irritated in general. Their whole weird argument was just bugging her. She still believes she was right, and regardless of whether they were on friendlier terms now, she knows there's still a line between them that can never be crossed. _But_ … his company isn't the _worst_.

In fact, sometimes she even welcomes it.

Not that she will _ever_ tell him that.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"What's it mean?"

Maya rolls her eyes, paintbrush poised in her fingers. "Why do you always want to know what something means? Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe it just is what it is."

Lucas shrugs. "Everything means something. It's all got a purpose."

"What about mosquitoes?"

He blinks, mouth hitching up at the corner. "You'll argue about anything, won't you?"

Her mouth opens to disagree, but she pauses after she sucks in a breath, and her eyes turn to the side.

He laughs, like he's caught her, and she frowns at him. "I plead the fifth."

Perched on a stool beside her, he just grins. "All right. But if it doesn't mean something, then why do it?"

"Do you come here looking for the meaning of life or something?" she wonders. "Maybe I just like to paint for the sake of painting. It makes me feel good. I _like_ creating things."

He stares searchingly at her a long moment, and then nods. "Okay."

Her brow furrows. "Okay what?"

"Okay, I get it."

"Get _what?_ " She can't help it, she's frustrated by the serene, knowing look on his face.

He laughs lightly, like he's figured something out, and tells her, "That's what it means… That's its purpose." He waves to the canvas. "To make you feel good."

Maya stares at him a long moment, and then huffs out a breath. "You are _such_ a Huckleberry."

He grins toothily, and tips an invisible hat at her. "At your service, ma'am."

Glaring, she points her paintbrush toward a table. "Go back to your homework."

Unperturbed, he hops off his stool. "Enjoy yourself."

She mutters irritably under her breath as he leaves, but he's all smiles. Maya remembers a time when boys were afraid of her, but she doesn't think he ever could be. That doesn't bother her much as it once would have.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Did we win the lottery? You can tell me if we did. I promise I won't spend it all in one place."

Katy rolls her eyes. "Ha, ha," she says. "No, I just thought we'd have something nice for dinner for once."

Maya looks at the spread of fried chicken laid out on the coffee table. "This is like a day's worth of tips… Are you sure we can afford this…?"

"Maya," her mama sighs, patting the couch seat beside her. "Will you just act your age and enjoy this? _Please_."

"All right, fine." She waves her hands in surrender and circles around to sit beside her. Katy already brought plates and cutlery out, so Maya starts filling hers with a little of everything. "It looks good, mom. Thanks."

Katy smiles at her, leaning over to bump her shoulder with her own. "It's no five-star dining, but it'll do, hey?"

Maya nods. "Yeah, it's great."

They fill up on greasy food and soda and catch a movie just starting on TV. It's nice when they get nights like these. They're rare —Katy's usually working the night shift and they don't often have the extra money to splurge— but every once in a while, they get to treat themselves. So Maya sinks into the comfort of it all, listening to her mom's tinkling laughter, and decides not to worry so much about the money or the lost work shift or anything else. It's just her and Katy and a well-deserved night off.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya's not quite sure how they got to this point, but for some reason, she's not really fighting it.

"I feel like one of those puppets on strings," she complains. "What are those called?"

"Marionettes," he answers, before drawing her hand down.

Lucas is doing art _via_ Maya, meaning she's the one holding the paintbrush, but he's directing her hands. She can feel his firm chest at her back and his breath on her shoulder, and whenever he laughs, the vibrations seem to ricochet through her. It's a strange feeling, all of it, his body so close and his fingers overlapping hers, but, in a weird way, she kind of likes it.

"What are we even making?" she wonders, raising an eyebrow at the abstract display of color in front of her.

"I don't know," he admits. "I like to think it'll look good when I'm done."

"So you haven't planned anything? You have no idea what you're doing?" She tips her head back so it's near his shoulder as she looks at him. And thank God for the heels she keeps in her locker, or she's sure he'd have a joke about her height just waiting. Of course, even with the added inches, she still stands well under his chin.

He stares down at her, and his eyes are far too blue, like someone went out of their way to make sure they'd stand out. If he was a painting, that's exactly where her gaze would fall, the focus point. But he's not a painting. He's flesh and blood and three dimensional.

"That's the fun part. We're not turning it in for credit. I just want to make something."

"Then why aren't you making it yourself?"

" _Because_. This is more interactive." He grins at her, all sparkly white teeth. She bets his dentist never has to remind him to floss. "Come on. It's fun. Whatever it turns out to be, good or bad, we made it together."

"Fortune cookie," she mutters, rolling her eyes. Still, she turns her head back to see the canvas once more.

The brush swivels and swoops and drags in every which way. Eventually he ducks it down into the water to rinse it off, dabs it on a rag to dry it off a little, and then dips it into another color. From what Maya can tell, it's just a whole lot of color being scribbled together. There's no bigger picture coming together, but it is kind of nice to look at. It's all in the color. He only picks bright ones, and he seems particularly fond of yellow and blue.

By the end of it, it's just a rainbow cluster, and she kind of loves it. And then he dabs paint onto her cheek with her own hand, and the fight is _on_. He scrambles away from her, laughing, but she's quick to give pursuit. In the end, they get more paint on each other than the canvas, her shirt is officially ruined, and they're late for class because it takes them too long to clean up. But it's also the most fun she's had in _years_.

He takes the canvas home with him, like he's going to hang it on his wall or something, and she wonders if one day, years from now, he'll remember the joint effort that went into making it. If he'll remember her at all.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"How's school going?" Katy wonders as she wipes down the front counter while Maya splits her time between eating a plate of fries and working on her calculus homework.

"It's all right." She shrugs. "Still happening, so that's a bummer."

Katy smiles. "You know, when I was your age, I wanted school to be over too, but by the time it was, I realized I should've enjoyed it when it was happening. Adults always say that and you don't believe them at the time, but then you get away from it for a while, you get bogged down with bills and responsibility and all these big choices, and suddenly you can't help but wish you were just a kid again and you didn't have to worry about any of it."

"Yeah, well…" Maya dusts her hands of bread crumbs. "I've been worrying about that stuff for a while now, so it might be a little different." Grabbing up her pencil, she scribbles in a few things on her paper.

"Well, have you thought about the scholarship some more? That's a big deal, isn't it? You get a full ride to school, get to focus on your art, see what happens… That's gotta be exciting."

"Yeah, I guess." Maya frowns. "I really need to get this math homework done, mom. Can we talk about this later?"

"Of course." Katy offers a half smile, half frown. "If something's on your mind though, something's bugging you…"

Maya nods. "I can tell you, I know."

"Okay… Well, you do your homework and finish up your dinner. Let me know when you're going home, okay? I don't like you skateboarding this late at night. And I want you to call me when you get in too."

"I will. Promise."

Katy walks off then, pasting on a smile for another customer, and Maya sighs. Why does life have to be so damn _hard?_

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

At some point, she's started categorizing his smiles. She tells herself this is just an artistic observation. She draws people sometimes and it can be fun, figuring out how she might capture the angles of someone's face, how the shadows will transform them. And Lucas, he has so many smiles; from sincere to annoyed to amused to… something else. Something she doesn't quite recognize. But he's always smiling. Even his eyes smile; there's this weird sparkle he gets sometimes, especially when she calls him Huckleberry.

It's been two weeks since they 'made up' and she's starting to get concerned with just how much she looks at his mouth. She never lingers or anything, she's not a weirdo, she just uses it to gauge his moods. He's an animated guy; she can always tell what's going on with him based on what his mouth is doing. And if he has nice lips, then that's just a bonus. If she happens to find herself sketching out his smile in her notebook from time to time, then she chalks it up to artistic curiosity, and then she tears those pages out and tosses them toward her wastebasket.

Today though, today his mouth is turned down, and she knows that doesn't mean good things.

Tapping her pencil against her book, she finally asks, "You all right, Sundance? You look a little down."

He looks over at her, sitting just beside him at the table in the library. "It's nothing. Just… Distracted, I guess."

"Yeah?" She paused. "You… wanna talk about it?"

He stares at her searchingly for a moment, and then shakes his head. "No. No, I'm good. I just want a distraction. What are we working on today?"

She hesitates for a moment, but his lips are pressed in a firm line, and she knows how stubborn he can be. So she shrugs. "All right, you change your mind, you know where to find me." Turning her book over, she drums her fingers on it and says, "English. Sometimes I speak it, that's about the gist of my knowledgebase on the subject."

He laughs under his breath, but it's not _at_ her, not really. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, Maya."

"Yeah, you'd be the first to say that."

Shaking his head, he stares at her knowingly. "You're a lot smarter than you like people to think."

Reaching over, she covers his mouth and shushes him. "Hey! I have street cred to protect."

While she can't see it, she can feel him smiling, and it's a relief. That whole frowning business wasn't sitting well with her, for reasons she refuses to examine too hard.

"Now, let's get back to business…" Dropping her hand, she shifts her attention to her notebook. "Feed my brain, Hop Along."

Taking up the book, he looks it over and nods. "I've read this."

"Great. That makes one of us…"

He shakes his head, but leans a little closer as he starts to tell her what the book is about. If she gets distracted by the faint smell of cologne and the way his Adam's apple bobs and the movement of his lips as he speaks, then that's between her and her traitorously quick-beating heart.

 _Stupid /_ _heart/_ _hart._

* * *

 **author's note** : _for the record, that /heart/ part is supposed to be a strike out, but for some reason it won't let me do that on here anymore... :/_

 _anyway, thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing! i'm relatively new to the gmw fandom and i'm really enjoying writing for these two, so i hope you're all enjoying reading! :)_

 **\- lee | fina**


	5. wistful

**chapter rating** : pg-13  
 **word count** : 5,192

* * *

 ** _love is nothing (but a weakness)_**

 **v.**

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Maya Hart… Haven't seen you around here in a while."

" _Charlie Gardner_ ," she greets animatedly, as she has for, oh, the last three years, since he started working at her favorite record store. "I've been busy. How's business?"

"Can't complain." He leans forward on the front counter, seated atop a stool, an ancient-looking cash register to his right. "Had a few new customers. You know Riley Matthews?"

"Heard of her, sure." She keeps her eyes on the milk crate of records she's fingering through and feigns disinterest.

"Her and Lucas Friar dropped in the other day, said they were looking for a gift for her dad. Riley's real nice. Pretty too."

"Yeah, she's a looker." Maya rolls her eyes. "When, exactly, did I become your go-to for relationship advice?"

"No advice, just friendly conversation. Besides, I heard her and Friar have been unofficial since middle school. I know when to fold."

Maya pauses. "Oh yeah?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral. "Long time to be unofficial."

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe Riley wanted to keep her options open."

"Right," she scoffs. "Because there's definitely better out there than Lucas Friar."

"He's not perfect," Charlie says, a little defensively, if you ask her. "I heard he was held back a year for fighting. He's got a temper on him. People don't expect it, but it's always the quiet ones."

"I wouldn't call Friar quiet. He's pretty popular, isn't he?" She plucks a couple records up and tucks them under her arm. "Captain of the debate team, star baseball player, even ran for class president last year, didn't he?"

"So he looks good on paper…" Charlie mutters.

Grabbing up a third record, Maya makes her way to the counter to pay for them, her brows hiked. "Hey, I'm not saying all the hype is true. He could have some skeletons in his closet. Extremely pretty and polite ones, but still skeletons." She grins. "If you like Riley so much, ask her out. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She rejects me, _loudly_ , in front of the whole school."

"So don't ask her out in front of the whole school. Who needs grand gestures anyway? Ask her out for fro-yo, geez."

"No. Riley Matthews deserves the big gestures. Likes balloons and roller skates and banners…" His eyes grow distant and starry, and Maya sighs.

"Whatever. Ring me up, Gardner. I've got a date with Zeppelin, Blue Oyster Cult, and The Beatles." Digging out her wallet from her backpack, she waits impatiently for her records and receipt. All she wanted was some tunes; was that so much to ask for?

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"So, you really ride this thing everywhere?" Lucas is sitting on top of a desk in the art room, looking over the art on the bottom of her skateboard. "Don't your legs get tired?"

Maya shrugs from her seat in front of a canvas. "Sure, sometimes, but you get used to it. I mean, I've been using a skateboard since I was little."

He snorts. "You're still little."

A withering glare gets tossed over her shoulder at him.

"What?" He grins. "You're like… a short stack of pancakes."

Pursing her lips at him, she turns back to her art without a word.

"Are you mad?" he wonders. " _Maya_ , come on. You know I didn't mean anything by it…"

She stays quiet.

"I was just teasing. You tease me all the time!"

"Not about things that really bug you," she mutters.

"Well, now, how do you know that? Maybe I'm just good at pretending I'm not hurt."

Maya rolls her eyes. " _Please_ , you wear your feelings on your sleeve, Huckleberry."

"Yeah? I'm that transparent, huh?"

"Yup!" She nods, dipping her brush in a well of blue paint. "I can read you like a book."

"Every little detail, just out there on display? You sure there's nothing you're missing?"

Maya looks back at him, a brow raised. "You're not Tolstoy."

He laughs, ducking his head a moment. "No, I'm not." He spins one of the wheels on her board. "Hey, will you teach me?"

"Teach you?" Her brow furrows.

"Yeah." He lifts the board up. "I'd like to learn."

Scoffing, she shakes her head. "Don't you have a pretty little pick-up to drive where you want?"

"Sure. But that doesn't mean I can't do this too. Maybe we can ride around together sometime. You can teach me a few tricks," he suggested, looking hopeful.

Turning back to her canvas, she shrugs. "Sure. I'm working all week though. Maybe next week, I'll visit Utopia and give you a few lessons."

"Okay," he says, sounding pleased. "Cool."

She hums, focusing ahead, but after a few minutes, she glances back at him, only to see his finger carefully sketching around the art she's painted over a few hundred times. He smiles down at the different, interconnected patterns, and her heart gives a traitorous tug.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Katy's having a bad day. She keeps dropping things and mixing up orders and her smile is strained, even for her favorite customers. Maya knows not to ask. Her mom always gets a certain look when she's got a migraine and this is just one of those times. She's been working all day, so Maya's not surprised. She woke up to the sound of her mom leaving at five that morning. She had to open up the other diner, where she worked until three, and then she took on the afternoon and evening shift here. Maya doesn't know how she does it. The monotony is one thing, that's bound to kill just about anybody, but Katy somehow gets through day after day of shift after shift, breathing in the stench of greasy food and accepting shitty tips and a pathetic pay check.

Maya doesn't have work tonight, but she does have her homework spread out on the front counter. It's nothing particularly differently or engrossing, but it is due tomorrow. Still, when her mom trips one more time, banging her elbow on a counter as she goes, Maya hops up from her stool. "Here, I got it," she says, taking the tray of food that Katy just barely kept from falling.

"No, honey, it's fine. I'm fine."

" _Mom_." Maya stares at her seriously. "Why don't you sit down? Take a break, have something to eat. I can take your tables over, all right?"

"I don't know." Katy looks around uncertainly.

"Nobody's gonna say anything." She rolls her eyes. "Put your feet up, Princess. I got this."

Katy's still chewing her lip, like she thinks she should protest, but the relief is already settling in her shoulders. It's a couple more beats before she nods and moves to take a seat at the counter, next to Maya's books.

Maya delivers the food to the waiting group at the back corner. She asks if they need anything else and salutes when they say they're all right. Making her way back around the counter, she grabs up a spare apron and ties it around her waist while she tells the cook to throw together the night's special. Order in, she pours a hot mug of coffee and serves it to her mom.

"I hope you like Salisbury steak, because you're about to eat one."

Katy laughs under her breath and looks up at Maya, her eyes soft and the lines around her face standing a little more prominent from exhaustion. "You didn't have to do that…"

"Sure I did." Maya pushes the coffee toward her. "You'd do it for me."

"Well, that's 'cause I'm your mama."

"Yeah, well, I'm your Maya. So…" She shrugs, and reaches over to drag the sugar closer.

Katy catches her hand before she pulls it away and squeezes, rubbing her thumb over the top. "Thank you, babygirl," she murmurs softly.

Maya nods, and then she sees someone waving at her, holding up an empty coffee cup for emphasis "Don't worry about it." She grabs up the coffee pot and winks at her mom. " _Seriously_."

Before Katy can say anymore, Maya walks over to the table and offers a refill. It's not how she planned on spending her night, but she wouldn't take it back. Her mom did more than enough for her; she could give her this.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya gets a little excited when she realizes her latest English test has a bright red A scribbled on it, so when she gets to the art room to find Lucas there, she maybe goes a little over the top. It takes five long strides for her to run and jump into his arms. The fact that he catches her – that she _expects_ and _trusts_ him to – is lost on her for the moment. Her legs are hitched on his hips and his arm is around her waist as he stares up at her, wide-eyed.

Maya shoves her test right in his face for him to see her grade and smiles even wider as he laughs happily.

"An A! Maya, that's great!"

"Yeah, well, you helped a little." She shrugs and then wiggles in his arms until he lets her down. "I'm thinking I might frame it and give it to my mom for her birthday. She'll probably cry; it'll be great."

He grins, shaking his head. "You worked really hard on that, you deserve it."

"Thanks, Huckleberry. Now…" She rubs her hands together. "To celebrate, I might've raided the vending machine. Did you know if you hit it in the right spot, everything just kind of drops out? It's great." She opens her bag then and grabs him out his favorite chocolate bar. It bounces against his chest before he catches it.

"You stole this?" he asks, an eyebrow raised.

"What are you, the police?" She digs her own bag of chips out and hops on top of a desk.

He walks toward her. "I think you paid for it…" He stares at her face searchingly. "I think you were proud of what you did and you bought me this chocolate bar and yourself those chips. And the stealing thing is just a way to keep up this whole badass image you've got going."

Maya leans forward and stares up at him, her head tipped. "What makes you think it's just an image?"

Staring down at her, he reaches across and tucks her hair behind her ear, his thumb skimming her cheek. "'Cause I know what it's like having to live up to other people's expectations…"

Her throat bobs as she swallows tightly, and his fingers aren't in her hair anymore, but she can still feel a buzzing sensation on her skin from where he touched her. "Eat your chocolate bar, Hop-Along. This isn't a Dr. Phil session."

His mouth twitches, but he nods and takes a step back. "This is my favorite," he says, as he tears the wrapping open.

Maya shrugs. "Lucky guess."

He grins knowingly at her as he takes a bite, but she pretends she can't see it.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Sometimes Maya likes to take her skateboard out to nowhere in particular. She rides until her legs get so tired they're ready to give out on her and then she finds a seat and she sketches everything in sight. Mailboxes, light poles, buildings, people, cars, buses, _everything_. And when her legs feel rested enough, she'll get back up and make her way home.

There's a stack of sketchbooks in her closet nearly as tall as she is, filled with finished and unfinished pieces. Bits and pieces of sketches that didn't go where she wanted. Sparks of inspiration that became something else completely. If she were to lay them all out, she could make a timeline of her growth as an artist and as a person. In a lot of ways, her art saved her, becoming the glue that held together a broken little girl as she became a semi-broken teenager.

Tucked into the folds of one of those books is the paperwork on her scholarship. The scholarship she continues to pretend doesn't exist. She stares up at the Texas skyline and she wonders how different it would be if she were in New York. Could she still see the stars there? Could she skateboard to the middle of nowhere and spend a few hours sketching? Would she fit in? Would they like her there? Or was she just wandering off to some other place where there was no Maya-shaped space to call her own?

It's dark and it's mostly headlights that show her where she's going. Her tank top doesn't do much to cover her bare skin from the cooling air, but she welcomes the chill. She breathes in deep and stretches her arms out as she picks up speed going down a hill. There's a strange freedom to it all, like she's a bird just about to take flight. To where, she's not sure, but the world is big and she is small and her wings are spread and ready.

She hopes, wherever she lands, it's where she needs to be.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Do you ride?" she wonders, her legs dangling over the edge of the art table.

"Ride?"

"Yeah. Horses, bulls, anything like that."

"Oh." He nods. "Yeah. Well, I did. I haven't in a while. My family moved here just before I started middle school. Before here, we lived in Austin, but my dad got a transfer out here, and mama, I guess she thought it might make things better. I got into some trouble with school and her and my dad weren't doing so well. I think she thought maybe we'd get closer or something. Didn't work too well… Anyway, I spent a lot of time out at my Pappy Joe's horse ranch growing up. I miss it sometimes. But I spend my summers with him, helping out. Last time I was on a bull though, I was fifteen. Broke the record for Tombstone."

"Tombstone?" Maya whistles. She may not follow the circuit regularly, but she knows enough. Her dad used to take her to rodeos when she was a little girl; she hadn't been back to one since he took off. But she remembered everything he said about them, all the big-name bulls that had built up a reputation worth taking note of, and Tombstone was nothing to scoff at. "Not bad, Huckleberry."

He grins. "Yeah, it felt pretty good at the time. I, uh… I think I was trying to make up for falling off Judy the sheep when I was five. Lasted all of two seconds. Wasn't my best moment."

She frowns. "You were _five_ , nobody's had their best moment. Besides, it's just a sheep."

"Not in my family. That kind of stuff is important. You get a reputation for riding, especially if your family's all done it. I got a lot of flack for falling off Judy."

Maya frowns. "People are assholes."

"They can be," he agrees. "But, I made up for it in the end."

"You didn't have to make up for it," she insists. "You were a kid; you rode a sheep and you fell off. It happens. Riding Tombstone, breaking the record, that's great, you should be proud of it. But you shouldn't be ashamed you fell off Judy. When I was five, I got my first skateboard. My knees are just giant scars for all the times I fell off. But I was a kid and I was learning. My mom never made me feel like crap because I wasn't a pro; she just bought one of those bulk packages of band aids. I was the one that decided to get back on the board until I stopped falling off. Telling someone they messed up and making them feel bad for it, especially at five, is a jerk thing to do. You could've been _hurt_. That should've been a priority long before your reputation!"

She can feel Lucas staring at her and she shifts, frowning uncomfortably. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, but he's still staring.

She looks over at him, brows hiked in question.

"It's just… I don't know, nice, I guess. To have you defending me…" He smiles lightly. "Usually I'm the one defending other people."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she looks away. "I don't like bullies."

"Yeah. Me either."

They sit like that for a little while, lost in thought, and then Maya asks, "So you own cowboy boots then?"

Lucas laughs. "You know you're a Texan too, right?"

"I like to think of myself as a visitor, accidentally dropped off here and left to fester like an unexpected weed."

"Bet you'll miss it when you head out to New York."

Maya's gaze wanders away. "Yeah. Maybe," she mutters.

"You'll have to write. Send post cards or something."

"You're staying?"

Lucas shrugs. "Texas is all I've ever known. I don't even know what I'd do out there, where I'd go."

"Well, it's a good time to find out then, isn't it?" She kicks her legs back and forth. "The world's only scary until you go out and meet it."

He turns to her, half-smiling. "Now who's the fortune cookie?"

Rolling her eyes, she shoves him with her elbow, but he just laughs and leans over, until their arms are pressed together. "I wasn't kidding though. You should write, tell me what it's like in the Big Apple. Who knows, maybe one day I'll take a flight down, visit you."

She glances over at him, rubbing her hands down her jean-clad legs. "Sure. I can do that."

"Good."

She chews her lip then, wanting to ask _something_ , what they're doing, what they are, but she doesn't. She's not even sure what she wants to hear.

Eventually the bell rings and they leave the art room, going their separate ways to get to class. Until tomorrow, when they'll met in the library or the art room and keep this strange friendship of theirs just to themselves.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

There's a man that sets up in the park and plays his guitar. He has an old, dusty army hat out for donations, but there aren't too many that drop money inside it. His fingers are weathered, nails bitten down to the quick, but they move with ease and familiarity over the strings of his guitar.

Maya drops a five in his hat and then sits cross-legged on her skateboard. She listens to the beat he's playing for a while and then she starts to sing. Songs she knows, readjusted to fit with the flow of the music. His head bobs along with her and his mouth ticks up in a smile. Sometimes the singing gathers a few more donations or a few people will crowd around, but for the most part he gets overlooked, they both do.

She likes it though. She likes sitting with him on a warm Sunday morning, singing along to his string plucking. When she asked his name a couple years ago, he said, "Call me R.J., Sunshine," and so she did. But she wasn't sure it was his real name and she never pressed to find out. If he wanted to be called R.J., that's what she'd call him.

That morning, she recognizes the tune he's playing and she picks up the song pretty easy. Together, they croon 'Waltz for the Faithless,' more for themselves than anyone else. It's beautiful and sad and hits her right in the chest.

She spends the rest of her morning sitting there with him, occasionally singing but mostly listening, until noon rolls around and she has to head to the diner to help her mom out. But the music sticks with her, and as she hops on her skateboard and leaves him to his day, she wonders what R.J. wanted to be when he was her age.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"This one's my favorite."

Maya looks over, to see Lucas standing in front of one of her older paintings. "Really? It didn't come out the way I wanted."

He stares at it a while longer. He tends to do that, just linger and stare at each of her paintings, like he's memorizing every fine detail. It used to make her uncomfortable, like she was waiting for his criticism or praise, but in the end, he just told her what he saw and how he interpreted it before asking what she meant when creating it. His view was always a little more optimistic than hers, but she liked that. Liked how he saw something good and happy in whatever she made, like it was lingering inside her without her even knowing, and it came out, bit by bit, with every stroke of the brush.

"It's… wistful," he decides. "A little sad and a little happy at the same time."

She walks up beside him, fiddling with a paint brush between her fingers. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Is that your mom?" he wonders, pointing to the woman in the back, her hair in disarray and her clothes a little rumpled, but her smile is gentle and friendly, and her eyes are warm as she looks out at them, like they're just another customer instead of people admiring a painting.

Maya nods. "Mmhmm. This is one of the diners she works at; she's been there since I was four. Everybody knows her there. She has all these regular customers. Like Bill—" She points to a big man on a stool, sipping at a cup of coffee. "He always gets the same thing."

"Oatmeal and toast," Lucas says, looking at the steaming bowl in front of him. "The butter's still melting."

Maya's mouth hitches up. "You sure like the little details, don't you?"

"I like seeing how much work you put into it. Like here, in the window… There's finger prints. And since there's a kid's menu, I guess that's where families usually sit?"

She nods. "They like to stand on the seats and stare out the window. Windows get dirty that way though. Mom always has to stay late to clean them off."

"She looks happy though. Tired, but…" He pauses. "She's looking at you."

"Yeah, I wanted it to seem kind of interactive, I guess."

"No, I mean… She's smiling because she's looking at _you_." He turns to her. "That's why it's kind of happy. She's tired and it's been a long day, but then you're there, and everything seems better."

Maya stares up at him, a lump in her throat. Blinking, she turns her gaze back to the painting, and takes in the faint lines around her mother's eyes and the way her smile is small and soft and genuine. "I guess it is… Wistful, I mean."

"You and your mom are close?"

Maya shrugs. "Close as we can be. We don't have a lot of time for each other."

He nods. "Yeah, I get that. My mom works a lot, and she's on all these different committees and boards, just trying to help out. Only time we really get together is at dinner. She's the best person I know, though."

"You really admire her, huh?"

"Yeah, I do. She juggles a lot and she still makes sure I'm always taken care of. She puts herself last though, and she doesn't deserve that." He frowns. "She deserves better than my dad."

"She's still got those divorce papers?"

"Yeah… I see her reading them over sometimes, when I'm supposed to be in bed and she's already finished off half a bottle of wine…" He shakes his head. "I don't know why she doesn't just give them to him."

"She's scared." Maya shrugs. "Either he fights for her or he walks away, and she's pretty sure she knows which one he'll do."

"Well, good." His mouth pinches. "So he walks away. We're better off without him."

"It's not the same for her as it is for you, though. You're going to be done high school soon and then you'll head off to college, and she'll be alone. It's not easy, being alone. Her whole life is going to change. Like you said, you probably won't even stay in the same house. So she'll have to uproot everything, move somewhere else, put up with all the gossip… Sometimes it's easier just to take the pain you're already used to then take on something worse."

"Maybe you're right, maybe it'd be easier in the moment, but what else is she going to do? She can't do this forever. She shouldn't have to."

"You're right. It's not fair. But it's her choice." Maya shrugs, and looks back at the painting. "We all make tough choices, sometimes they work out and sometimes they don't."

"I don't want that for her. I want her to be happy."

Turning, Maya pats his arm and then walks back to her in-progress piece. "So tell her that. Tell her you'll support whatever she wants to do. Because I guarantee, you're a big part of whatever choice she makes. She wants you to be happy too, Sundance."

Lucas frowns to himself a long moment, and then nods. "You're right. I should talk to her."

"Cool. Now do me a favor and grab the green paint off that high shelf."

With a scoff, he walks over to the cupboard for her. "When's your birthday? Think I might just get you a foot stool."

Maya rolls her eyes. "What do I need with a foot stool when I got you?"

Lucas doesn't answer; he just hands her the green paint.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Mom… Did you love dad?"

Katy looks up from the bills scattered in front of her, and plucks her reading glasses off her nose, pushing them up to the top of her head. She rubs her eyes as she asks, "What? Honey, of course I did. I married him, didn't I?"

"Sure, but you also divorced him. Not to mention, you mostly got married because I surprised you."

"You were a good surprise. Maybe me and Kermit jumped into marriage before we were ready, but that doesn't mean I didn't love him. What we had in the beginning, it was good. We just… We were too different. We wanted different things. Kermit was still figuring himself out. He didn't know who he wanted to be or what he wanted to do, he just knew he didn't want this."

" _Us_ , you mean."

"No, honey. I mean _this_. He didn't want marriage and fatherhood and family. That's not on us. You didn't cause this. Kermit wasn't ready to be a dad, and maybe he never will be, but that doesn't change the fact that he gave me the best gift I could ever ask for. Maya, I know life hasn't been easy for us, and maybe you think it would've been better if he stuck around. But I did my best."

"I know." Maya nods. "I guess I just wondered how people can fall in love and then out of love so easily."

"I don't think it _is_ easy. I think it's scary and hard and it takes a lot of work, and sometimes people just give up. They don't want to work at it anymore. And that's when you have to decide if who you're with is right for you, or if maybe it's time to move on. I was still in love with Kermit when we divorced. I didn't want to be, but I was. I just knew that he wasn't coming back and trying to keep him here, attached to us, wasn't doing us any favors. So I let him go, and I healed."

"You think you can love again? If you found the right person."

"Sure. Maybe, one day." She shrugs. "What's all this about anyway? You fall in love with someone when I wasn't looking?" she teased gently.

"No, of course not." She frowns. "I just… I have a friend, and his parents might be getting divorced, and it made me think."

"Oh. Well, that's going to be hard for him, but… If he's your friend, then you'll be there to help him through it." Reaching over, Katy rubs Maya's shoulder. "You're a good person, babygirl. He's lucky to have you."

Squirming in her seat a little, Maya reaches over and grabs up a bill. "So how many can we pay this month?"

"Well…" Katy sighs and grabs her calculator. "With all your help this month and the extra shifts I've been taking… Cross your fingers, honey. I think we might get 'em all."

Maya smiles. She crosses her fingers under the table. It's as close to hope as she ever gets.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Hold still."

"It tickles," he tells her, but presses his fingers down a little harder on his knee to keep from squirming.

She's not sure what the middle point was, but somehow, she got Lucas to agree to let her paint his arm, from the tips of his fingers up to his elbow. Nothing in particular, just swirling colors that interconnected in different patterns and shapes.

"This stuff isn't toxic, right?"

She snorts. "Totally. This was all to kill you. Because there aren't easier ways."

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Will it stain my clothes?"

"Shouldn't. Just don't roll your sleeve down until it's dry." She's sitting on a stool in front of him, his knees on either side of her hips. Her elbow is resting on his thigh as she works, her entire focus on his unpainted skin. "You ever thought about getting a tattoo?"

"Are you kidding? Mama would put me in the shed."

"I don't know. Could be worth it, Ranger Rick. A nice arm tattoo. I'd draw the art for it myself."

Looking down at her progress, he says, "Maybe. I'll think about it. And I expect your offer doesn't have an expiration date?"

"Sure." She grins. "Whenever you get over your fear of the shed, I'll draw whatever tattoo you want."

Lucas nods, gaze meeting hers. "You know you're really talented, right?"

"Have to be if you're willing to get it permanently tattooed on your body," she jokes.

"I'm serious." He tips his chin down to his arm. "You make beautiful things, Maya."

She stares up at him then, the brush resting against the inside of his elbow. "Careful, Huckleberry. You're going to give me a Texas-sized ego."

His mouth hitches up at the corner. " _Good_."

Maya laughs lightly and ducks her head, her hair slipping over her shoulder. He catches it before the ends can reach the paint and slides it back over her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her neck. She shifts in her seat to hide the tiny shiver than runs through her and hopes he didn't see, and then she focuses on the paint and his arm and keeping her breathing steady.

By the time the bell rings, his arm is only a little wet, and he walks out wearing it with a proud grin on his face. "It's a Maya Hart original," he declares before he goes, and she's never been in love - _she's not in love -_ but if it doesn't feel even a little like this then everyone else is missing out.

* * *

 **author's note** : _a guest review asked if riley would be making an appearance and if she and maya would have a friendship, the answer is yes, absolutely! riley will make her debut soon enough and she and maya will have a friendship completely independent of lucas. and i absolutely loved writing their interactions, so i hope you'll enjoy them when they pop up._

 _for anyone interested, 'waltz for the faithless' is by peter bradley adams, and it's well worth listening to!_

 _thank you so much for reading! please try to leave a review, if you can!_ :)

 **\- lee | fina**


	6. perfect

**chapter rating** : pg-13/teen  
 **word count** : 5,929

* * *

 ** _love is nothing (but a weakness)_**

 **vi.**

Sometimes, when she's working at the diner, Maya wonders if this is going to be her life. It's not the worst thing. There are a few good people who tip well and tell her crazy stories about when they were her age. But it's not fun, by any means, and there's no passion in it for her. It's just a job, just something she does to help her and her mom get by. She doesn't love it, doesn't look forward to it, and she can't help but wonder how much of her mom's spirit has been snuffed out by it.

Katy deserves better; she always has. When Maya lets herself dream, lets herself wonder about some perfect future that is almost definitely out of reach, she imagines being some big name artist. Having her own gallery and art shows and creating something amazing. And the first thing she'd do when she hit it big was get her mom a house. A big, beautiful one with a pool and air conditioning, and then she'd tell her it was all hers, rent and bill free, and Maya would just take care of her. Like Katy had always done for her.

And sure there are some details she ignores, like how much art she'd have to sell and how big she'd have to get to be able to set her mom up for life. But she doesn't care. After a long day, with her sore feet put up, she dozes in a ratty arm chair and fantasizes about a life her and her mom will probably never have. But it's okay, because when she opens her eyes, she meets reality where it's at. She knows hope is for suckers. She knows not to dream too deep. Because when she wakes up, she'll be right there, with another diner shift waiting for her, and that's just how it is, it's just _who_ she is.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya doesn't mean to venture out Lucas' way. She was going to skateboard over to the corner store and get something sugary-sweet to rot her teeth on. But, the next thing she knows, she's wandered on down to his neighborhood. She tells herself it's fine; after all, she promised him she'd teach him how to ride a skateboard _weeks_ ago, so she's just keeping her word.

She doesn't mean to like him. She stands firm that she doesn't really like him at all. He's an acquaintance, really. Just one more face to add to all the others. Only he isn't. She tells him things she hasn't told anyone. She shares parts of herself with him that she's never shared with anyone. She shows him her art and she tells him what's going on in her head and she lets him try to understand her; even, in some tiny, unrecognized part of her heart, _hopes_ he will.

And there are days when he stands a little closer or when they sit side by side and she can feel his arm against her own. There are times when he turns to say something and she can feel his breath fan over her cheek. And that strange feeling of her heart skipping, stuttering, struggling with the _idea_ of what this is, makes her breath catch in her throat. Because she can't want him. He's, well, _him_. And she's _her_.

He doesn't mean anything by it. Not when he brushes her hair back from her cheek or when he wipes a smudge of paint from her chin or when he hands her bag to her and their fingers overlap and he lingers for a moment before he pulls away. He doesn't mean anything when he stares at her, that strange smile on his face, or when he grins at her nicknames for him, or when he tugs on her hair after he says hello and before he says goodbye. He doesn't mean anything by it, because he _can't_.

She tells herself this even as she skateboards up the hill and around the corner and she's headed toward his house, with the bright red roses in the front. She tells herself this when she skids to a stop, because he is standing on the sidewalk, under the glow of a street lamp, kissing Riley Matthews. It's picturesque, really. If she couldn't actually feel her heart caving into her chest, she might take a moment to mentally sketch the whole thing out. But it's fine, really.

Nothing he's done and nothing she feels ever really meant anything. She repeats this to herself as her heart skips and stops and stutters and drops. And again and again, when she pivots on her heel and turns around and goes back the way she came, her cheeks a little damp and her fingers balled into fists and her nails biting at her palms.

He never meant anything. He _isn't_ anything. Not to her. He can't be.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya's not jealous. She's not even mad. She's just _tired_.

In all her eighteen years, there have only been a few things she really, truly hoped for. That her dad would come home, tell her it was all a mistake, he was in an accident, hit his head, had amnesia, and only just remembered her and her mom and his family. That they would get a house in Utopia, with air conditioning and a pool and a fridge full of food that was never empty. That her mom wouldn't have to work so much; that they could spend real time together, even if it was just driving around town like they used to.

And then, without even quite realizing it, she put her hope in a boy. It was so _stupid_ now that she thinks about it. Of all the things to trust and believe in, she chooses the most fickle of them all. Her experience with men hasn't exactly been great up to this point. She's dated, but nothing ever too serious. The idea of getting close to anyone, of trusting them with those fragile, jagged pieces of her, was not something she wanted to take her chances on. But she dated and she enjoyed the easy parts of it, the nice parts, the hand holding and kissing and making out until her whole body felt like one big livewire. But she's never been in love and she's never really wanted to be. She's seen what love does, the devastation it leaves in its wake, and she wants no part of it.

She doesn't love Lucas. – _she doesn't, she won't, she can't-_ She just… For a moment, a brief, butterfly-filled moment, she thought… _maybe_. Maybe she could like him. Maybe she could want him. Maybe she could _have_ him. Maybe he could love her.

And then Riley Matthews, a princess if ever there was one, found her prince. And it made sense. They were from the right side of the tracks. They were friends, they had history, he'd only ever said good things about her. As far as Maya could tell, Riley was a great person. Funny and smart and kind in ways that Maya never could be. So, she got it. She really did. Girls like Riley deserve boys like Lucas. And girls like Maya, well…

She doesn't know what she deserves. But she knows that if she wants to stop feeling like this, she needs to stop playing with fire. Because she got it wrong before. Lucas wasn't Auggie. She was. She was the one looking at him with animated hearts. Looking for signs that he might feel them too. And maybe it was all in her head. Maybe he was just being friendly and she misconstrued every little thing. But it doesn't matter. Because she won't do it anymore. Whatever feelings she had for him, whatever hopes she'd inadvertently been putting on him, they were gone. And she was better off for it.

After all, hope was for suckers.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Hey."

Maya looks up as a shadow falls over her notebook. "Hey."

"You, uh, you weren't in the art room or the library…" Lucas' brow furrows. "You haven't been all week."

"Needed a change of scenery," she says, shrugging as she drops her gaze to her book.

"Oh." He shifts his feet. "Well, you could've left a note or something, let me know where you were…"

Maya shrugs, focusing on the stroke of her pencil.

"You have that chem test next Monday, don't you?" he asks. "I thought maybe we could study for it. I have some flashcards for the definitions and—"

"I'm not really up for studying, Lucas. I think I'm just going to get some drawing done. I'll study this weekend, on my breaks at the diner."

He doesn't answer right away, and a few beats pass. "You called me Lucas," he says quietly.

"That's your name," she reminds him.

"Yeah, but… You always call me Huckleberry, or Sundance, or Ranger Rick—"

"I've called you a lot of things. I'm inventive like that."

"I know, which is why I'm confused. Did… Did I do something wrong? Because you're gonna have to tell me if I did. I can't read your mind, Maya."

"Nope. You did absolutely nothing wrong." She means it; she really, _really_ means it.

"Okay, then why are you pushing me away?"

"I'm not pushing you anywhere. I'm drawing. You offered to help me study, I turned you down. I'm not really seeing the problem here…"

His feet shuffle again, and she wonders if it's a nervous gesture she's never noticed before. "All right, but it's not just that. You haven't been around all week. I thought… I thought we were hanging out. We sort of had this unspoken thing, you know? We'd meet in the art room or the library and we'd talk or study or something. And now you're out here and you didn't tell me, so it's like you're avoiding me, but I don't know _why_."

Maya leans back until she feels the firm tree behind her. "Look, we gave this whole acquaintanceship thing a try and it was fun. But I think we should stop fooling ourselves. We're different. It's as simple as that."

He frowns down at her, his face taking on that stubborn look she's seen all too many times. "Maya, I—"

" _Lucas!_ "

His head swivels, and Maya follows his gaze to where a grinning Riley Matthews stands waving. She's pretty in that natural way that some girls are, where they don't really have to try, they're just whimsical and sweet and radiate sunshine like there's a unicorn growing inside them. Standing just to the right of her are Zay and Farkle, not quite as pretty but somehow just as friendly and inviting as Riley, and all they need is for Lucas to return and finish out their little quartet of perfect.

Lucas waves back, half-smiling, and Maya rolls her eyes. Just because she doesn't blame him, or dislike Riley, doesn't mean she feels like sitting around and watching the love-fest. She has better things to do with her time.

Pushing up from the ground, she takes her bag and her notebook. She's just about to walk past him when she pauses. "You should tell them, about your parents. If they're as great as you say they are, then they'll be there for you." She knocks his arm with her fist lightly. "You don't need me, Lucas. You have plenty of people who care."

Not waiting on a response, she turns and walks away.

She doesn't expect him to call after her, and he doesn't, so she takes that as a sign that cutting ties was the right thing to do.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"You all right, babygirl? You look sad…" Katy takes a seat on the couch beside her. It's one of the rare nights she isn't working and she seems happy to spend it relaxing at home.

"Yeah, fine. Just… I don't know. Kind of spacey today, I guess."

"Okay." Patting her knee, Katy hands her the remote. "Why don't you pick something out for us? Something funny. We deserve a little laugher, huh?"

"Yeah, mom, we do." She smiles at her faintly and skims through the movies On Demand, avoiding anything with an even vaguely romantic plot. "How was work today?"

"Good!"

Katy launches into a story and Maya cocoons herself in the comforting sound of her mother's voice, drowning out everything else. It's not a perfect coping mechanism, but there's Rocky Road ice cream in the freezer, her mom beside her, and whatever funny movie she wants to watch at her fingertips. It will just have to do.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya avoids the art room and the library for two weeks. She figures by that time, stubborn or not, he'll have gotten the message. She spends her time outside, sitting under trees or riding her skateboard around the parking lot while she eats her bagged lunch. But by the time two weeks have passed, she's happy to be back in the comfort of her art room, perched on her favorite stool, a paint brush in hand. She's not sure what, exactly, she's trying to create, but it's darker than most of her other pieces, sharp and cutting.

She's only seen Lucas in passing, as she's making her way through the halls to her locker or next class. He never stops her and she never slows. Twice, she's seen Riley with him, a hand on his forearm or shoulder, tugging on him to join the conversation. They look good together, she decides. Riley is tall and beautiful and smart. She's everything Maya had always wanted to be growing up. And Maya doesn't hate her for having Lucas. She might envy her a little bit, but that's fine. She's lived most of her life stuck in a state of envy. She'll get over this. He's just a boy.

Her brush dips into the red paint and drags across the middle of her painting, an angry, screaming line of _something_.

"Getting some pent up rage out, Hart?"

She jumps in her seat, twisting to see Zay Babineaux standing behind her, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "It's either the canvas or your face, Babineaux, which do you prefer?"

He grins, unperturbed. "Defensive little thing, aren't you?"

"When I have to be." She frowns at him. "Did you want something?"

"All right, you're a prickly one, huh? I can work with that."

Maya blinks at him. "You should leave. _Now_."

He waves his hands at her in something akin to surrender. "Hey, I'm on your side, girl. I'm just looking out for the greater good here."

Brow furrowed, she shakes her head. "I really don't have time to listen to your cryptic bullshit. Well, I do, but I don't _want_ to. You see the dilemma here?"

Grinning, he shrugs. "Yeah, but I'm mostly going to pretend you didn't say that."

"Why am I not surprised?" she mutters.

"So listen, I've had to deal with a mopey cowboy for the last three weeks and I'm _sick_ of it. I don't know what Lucas did—hell, _Lucas_ doesn't know what he did—but I'm beggin' you. Give the boy a break."

Crossing her legs, Maya raises an eyebrow at him. "Are you seriously trying to apologize for Lucas Friar right now?"

"Sure, if that'll get you to talk to him again."

Shaking her head, she wonders, "Why?"

"Didn't I just tell you? The boy is miserable! All he does is mope."

"Yeah, well, I hardly think that's my fault. You ever think maybe there's something personal going on? Like, at home…?"

"You mean about his parents' divorce? Yeah, I know about it. He told me a while ago."

" _Oh_. Well, good. He needed someone to talk to about it."

"I'm pretty sure he had someone. But she basically told him they weren't _whatever they were_ anymore and now he's just kind of drifting around, trying to figure out how he messed it all up."

"We weren't anything," she tells him, hopping off her stool. "We talked sometimes, he helped me study for school. He was like a part-time tutor that I never paid, that's it."

Zay snorts. "Yeah, well, I don't think he got the memo on that one."

"Whatever." Maya gathers up her paint brushes and walks to the sink. "Look, Lucas is a good guy, and I'm glad he has you. But I don't need you to tell me to forgive him. There's nothing to forgive. I already told him that. He did nothing wrong."

"Uh-huh…" Zay clucks his tongue and walks toward her, hopping up to take a seat on a desk. "This is about Riley, isn't it?"

"What?" She scoffs at him over her shoulder. "I don't even _know_ Riley."

"You should. You'd like her. Everybody does."

"So I've heard," she mutters under her breath.

"But this is about her and _Lucas_ …" She can feel his eyes boring into the back of her head while she focuses on cleaning her brushes. "They have history. Have since puberty hit and Riley looked at Lucas and saw some kind of real life fairy tale. You know the problem with fairy tales though, right? They aren't real. Lucas is a good guy, like you said, but he's no prince. And that was the problem. That's why they could never quite make it work. She looks at him and sees what she wants him to be, and he can never live up to that expectation. Lucas, he's… He's just a guy. A good one. Hell, he'd run through fire for a friend. But he's not perfect. He's got his own demons. And Riley, she's sweet, she's one of the nicest people I've ever met, but she's got some growing up to do still. And I think, when she does, she'll realize her and Lucas were never headed for any happily ever after."

"Is anyone?" Maya asks cynically.

"Maybe not," he admits. "But some of us have a better chance of getting something close to it."

Sighing, Maya turns to face him, her back against the sink. "You don't even know me," she reminds him. "You have no idea who I am."

"You're Maya Hart," he says, hopping down from the desk. "The Blonde Beauty… Headed to New York because she's got more talent in her pinkie finger than the rest of us got combined. You ask Lucas, his day rises and sets on _your_ smile." He points at her. "I might not know you personally, but I know enough." He tips his head at her then, a silent farewell, and starts for the door.

"Hey," she calls after him, eyeing him curiously. "Does he know you're doing this…?"

"You kidding? He'd kick my ass for this." He grins toothily.

As Zay leaves, Maya stares uncertainly at the door.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

* * *

 **[...]**

* * *

"You excited for Spring Break?" Katy asks as she puts the groceries away, reaching up on her tip-toes to slide a few cans onto a high shelf.

Maya shrugs as she bends near the fridge, putting away the sad collection of fruit and vegetables they'd picked up. "I don't know. I'll be working for most of it."

"Not the _whole_ time. Don't you want to go out? Spend time with friends, do something fun?"

Maya admires an apple before rubbing it on her jacket and taking a bite out of it. "I'll probably just get some of my old art projects finished. They're filling up my closet and collecting dust."

"Maya," Katy sighs. "You're going to have a lifetime to do that. You'll be at school, knees deep in art all next year. Why not spend the time you've got here doing something else? Meet people, make friends, I don't know, just… You've seemed so down lately."

"I'm fine." Apple in hand, she closes the fridge door with her hip. "Besides, I'm not even sure I'll go to New York. It's pretty far away and… I don't even know what I'd do there. So…"

Katy pauses, turning on her heel to stare at Maya in shocked confusion. "But… your scholarship. You worked so hard for that competition. They told you they would cover everything, that you were talented and they would be so proud to have you at their school… Maya, art is all you've ever loved doing. I've never seen you more passionate about anything in my life. I don't get it."

"I just… It's stupid. I don't want to talk about it. I haven't even made my mind up about it, okay? So, just drop it. We'll talk about it later." Leaving the kitchen, she makes her way to the front door. "I'm going out. I'll be home later."

"Okay, just… I want to talk about this," Katy tells her seriously. "Tonight, we'll get dinner, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Maya agrees before she steps out through the screen door and lets it snap closed behind her. She takes her board and walks down the steps, carrying it with her to the street out front.

With no particular destination in mind, she decides to just trip around and see what catches her eye. She picks up a slurpee from a corner store and rides down a few random side streets, watching as the sun sets in the distance. It's dark by the time she makes it home, and she's not surprised to see a note from her mom saying she's sorry, but she was called into work. _'We'll talk later! Love you! – Mom xoxo_ '

Maya balls it up and shoots it into the garbage can before she digs a box of mac n' cheese out of the cupboard. She eats it out of the pot, sitting on the couch, watching Wheel of Fortune, and wonders what she would have told her mom when she asked why not New York. Because she has a lot of excuses for why she doesn't want to go, but, if she's honest with herself, it's really simple.

She's not good enough.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

It takes four days in the art room alone before she can admit she misses him. There's just something about having that extra presence around that became comforting. She'd gotten used to him, that's all. She feels his absence like an ache, a tear in the fabric of her daily life.

When he'd first started showing up, sitting at his table with his homework, she'd wanted to be annoyed, to get territorial over a space that was all _hers_. But now it feels emptier, like the table he used to sit at is missing something, and the space behind her shoulder where he hovered feels cold, and the whole room just seems bigger and blander and quieter in a disconcerting way. She tries to drown it out with music, to focus on her painting and not the room itself, but it doesn't work.

She's late when the bell rings and he's not there to tell her lunch is almost over and she better start cleaning up. She feels rushed and off and _wrong_. She misses his commentary on her latest piece, his optimism standing in contradiction to her own more cynical view. She misses the banter and the weight of him behind or beside her. She misses the talking and the _laughter_ and the companionship of it all.

But she won't change it.

Call her stubborn, but she refuses to go back to something she knows will only hurt her. Just because he offers something nice doesn't mean it'll stay that way. He would've grown tired of her eventually. Would've wandered back to his real friends and forgot about the strange girl that provided a little mystery in his life. They were too different, opposing forces that couldn't break out of a mold that had been built for them. They had their moments, and she could enjoy them for what they were, but wanting more was a risk, and, while Maya liked a little chaos, she never did anything that could damage her emotionally. She had enough of that to last a lifetime.

So she uses the timer on her phone to let her know it's time to pack up. And she puts her headphones on and cranks her music, forcing herself to focus on her canvas and not the room at large. It won't always work. But she'll get used to it. She has to.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Hart."

"Brandon," she greets, looking up from her seat on the stairs leading into her trailer. It's a nice night, not too warm and not too cold, so she decided to get some fresh air. She wasn't expecting company, but she won't turn it away either. Brandon's the quiet type; in her experience, he only talks when he feels like he has something important to say.

He walks over, taking a seat a stair below her. "You seem restless lately. Haven't seen you on your board this much in a few years."

She snorts. "Keeping an eye on me, Knight?"

He kicks at the dirt driveway, sending a rock skittering. "Like to keep my eye on everyone who lives around here."

Grinning crookedly, she raises an eyebrow down at him. "Yeah? A one-man neighborhood watch, huh?"

He shrugs before leaning back on his elbows. "You all right?"

Maya pauses, considers the question a long moment. "You ever get really close to someone? Like maybe they're your best friend or maybe they're something more, and then they just _aren't_."

"You push 'em away or they leave?" he wonders.

"Does it matter?"

He looks up at her, a vague tilt to his mouth. "Yeah. It does."

She frowns down at him. "How? They're still gone."

"If they left, then yeah, they're gone. Don't chase 'em. Just be glad they left before you got too attached." His gaze falls. "But if you pushed 'em away, then there's still a chance."

"For what?"

"For something better." He sits forward then, arms on his knees. "Sometimes, you get so used to being left behind, you run away from people before they can run first. Protective measure, y'know?"

"Yeah," she murmured. "I know."

"And sometimes… you luck out. You meet someone who doesn't plan on going anywhere. And you just gotta trust that they mean it."

"You make it sound a lot easier than it is." She scoffs.

"I know it's not easy. Never is for us. But sometimes you just gotta take a chance." With that, he stands, tucks his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "See ya around, Hart."

"Yeah. See ya."

She watches him walk away, his head ducked. Just before he's out of sight, she calls after him, "Hey Brandon…?"

He pivots to look at her, eyebrow arched in question. "Yeah?"

"Did you trust them? Whoever you found?"

His mouth ticks up faintly, but it's not happy. It's as close to wistful as she thinks he's capable of showing. "No… And I regret it."

When he leaves this time, she lets him, and she slumps back against the stairs, heavy with thought.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Mom?"

Katy looks up from the novel she's reading; one of those cheap Harlequin romance types, with the burly, shirtless dude on the front. She's wearing her reading glasses and her hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail. "Yeah, baby?"

Maya tugs at her loose t-shirt and shifts on her feet. "Do you think you can still be friends with someone if you had feelings for them?"

Katy blinks, surprised, and then folds down the corner of the page in her book, marking it for later reading, and shifts on the couch to see her better. "Well… I guess that depends. Do you _still_ have feelings for them?"

"This is a hypothetical conversation," she mumbles defensively.

Biting her lip to hide a smile, Katy nods. "Okay, sure. But, _hypothetically_ , do those feelings still exist?"

Maya's mouth twists up. "Kind of. Maybe. They're unrequited though, and it's not like this person hypothetically _expressed_ these feelings. She just sort of… pushed him away when she realized he didn't feel the same way and he never would… _hypothetically._ "

"Never's a big word, honey."

Maya rolls her eyes. "I don't need empty reassurance, mom. He doesn't like me like that. He has this… this _perfect_ girl and I… I'm just me."

Katy frowns, reaching up to pull her reading glasses off and fold them in her hand. "Perfection isn't real and you are _nothing_ to scoff at. You hear me?" She reaches an arm out, wiggling her fingers expectantly, and Maya huffs, but takes her hand and lets her mom tow her over to the couch, wedging herself against Katy's side.

Stroking her fingers through Maya's hair affectionately, she says, "Feelings are hard. They either die quicker than you want or hold on longer than they should… I guess the question isn't whether you can still be friends, it's if you _want_ to. Once you have those feelings, it's hard to change 'em. And it'll take a whole lot longer for them to die when you got the root of 'em right in front of you. _So_ … is he worth that?"

Maya frowns. "Is anybody?"

"Sure. Love doesn't come easy, babygirl. Sometimes you gotta fight for it."

Sighing, Maya turns her head and presses her cheek to Katy's chest, where she can hear her mother's steady heartbeat. Katy doesn't say anymore, doesn't push her to tell her who he is or when they met or what she'll do. She just holds her. And after a few minutes, Maya reaches for the book in her mother's lap.

"What's this one about?"

With a grin, Katy says, "A hunky pirate captain."

"Seriously?"

Giggling, Katy nods. "It's terrible. Here, listen…" She flips her book open and finds the cheesiest part to read aloud, and Maya grins. It _is_ awful and cheesy and over the top, but it's also fun and funny and a great way to end their night.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya isn't sure _why_ she heads to Utopia. She doesn't plan to, but her feet have a way of taking her places without her consent. The sun has set and the street lamps are on when she finds herself sitting on the curb outside of his house. She isn't going to go up to the door and knock. That'd be weird, right? They weren't those kind of people. She likes to think they're more serendipitous. They just happen to find each other; they don't go looking for one another. But he looked. He searched for her when she wasn't where he expected. So maybe it's just her. Maybe she just expects he'll find her if he's supposed to.

And he does.

She hears his footsteps coming, but she doesn't look back. She just waits, her legs outstretched, heels propped on her skateboard. And then he's there, sitting beside her, staring up at the sky.

A few minutes pass in silence; she could break it, but she doesn't. She's not sure what she should say, or what he expects.

"Didn't think I'd see you out here anymore," he finally says, dropping his head back down, gaze set on the street ahead.

"Wasn't planning to come here. Just kind of happened…"

"Yeah? You just happened to sit in front of my house?" He scoffs lightly, a small tilt to his mouth.

"Maybe I like the flowers. They're prize-winning roses, you know."

He laughs, licking his lips and shaking his head. "You bailed on me."

"Don't take it so personally, Sundance. Maybe it just runs in the family. Like father, like daughter."

He frowns, looking over at her. "You're not your dad, Maya. You're your own person. I just don't understand why you left in the first place."

Shrugging, she leans back on her arms. "In a few months, we go our separate ways anyway. Maybe I was just speeding up the process."

"What happened to me visiting you in New York or you sending post cards?" He stares at her searchingly. "It doesn't have to end just because school's over."

"It didn't even really begin," she retorts. "We're just two people who crossed paths and then tried to make some strange friendship out of it."

"What's so strange about it?" He shakes his head. "We connected, I know we did."

"Yeah, well, we're not supposed to." She raises an eyebrow but drops her gaze from his. "It was fun, and I liked talking to you, and my teachers are probably still reeling from all the homework I put in on time. But this, you and me, I mean…" Scoffing, she says, "We're from different worlds. The only reason we clicked was because for just a minute, your perfect life was interrupted, and suddenly you knew a little bit of what it was like to be like me. So you latched onto it. And that—It's _fine_. But eventually your mom will hand him the papers and life will change, for a little while, until it inevitably finds its groove again. And then you can go back to being Mister Perfect, with Princess Riley and your little band of friends and your baseball scholarship and whatever else it is you do. And I will still be here, working in a diner, trying to keep the bills paid and wondering what life would be like if it was just a _little_ easier."

"That's what you think I am? That's why you think I hung out with you? Like I was just using you until things got better?" His brow furrows. "I'm not perfect, Maya. I've never been perfect, and I think you know that. I think it's just easier for you to label me that way because then you don't have to face what's happening."

"What's happening? _Nothing_ is happening."

"That's not true," he denies firmly.

"Then enlighten me, Huckleberry. Huh?" She sits up, turning to him. "What great big thing is happening between u—"

He catches her face between his hands, his palms splayed across her cheeks, and he's so close that she can feel his breath on her lips. Her heart stutters and skips and leaps and falls and…

"It's not nothing." His eyes search hers. "It's _not_."

Her heart is still pounding in her chest, and she wants to do something. Lean in, lean back, she's not sure which. But her gaze falls to his mouth, and his fingers press a little harder against her face, like he's noticed.

"Lucas?"

Maya jumps.

He turns his head and swallows tightly. "Yeah, mom, I'm out here."

"It's getting late. Come inside. You've got dishes tonight," she calls out.

"All right, I'm coming," he replies.

His hands are still on her face and Maya's not sure if she should pull away and stand up. But then he looks back at her, and a muscle ticks in his cheek. He pushes her loose hair back behind her ears, knuckles skimming against her neck. "I'll see you tomorrow? In the art room?"

She looks away, but nods.

His hands drop away and he stands from the curb, lingering a second longer before finally walking back toward his house.

Maya blows a shaky breath out, a hand pressed to her chest, and her knees feel wobbly even though she's sitting down. So she stays a few minutes longer before she tries to stand and then she grabs up her board and makes her way home, her thoughts more than a little scattered.

So maybe it isn't nothing, but she's still not sure what it is.

* * *

 **author's note:** _so when i'm editing, i tend to add more little passages that expand on character development and such, which keeps pushing riley's debut further away. but i promise she's in the next chapter! it's actually pretty riley heavy, haha. probably to make up for her absence thus far. or so i hope. she's a lot of fun to write and terribly adorable. speaking of fun to write - **zay**. so much fun. loved writing him, and he shows up more as the story goes on. brandon was an unexpected guest this chapter, we'll see where he goes, he might pop up more, not sure yet. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter. the angst got me good. love me some angst. ;) _

_thanks for reading! please try to leave a review!_

 **\- lee | fina**


	7. yay

**chapter rating** : pg-13/teen  
 **warning** : strong language  
 **word count** : 4,718

* * *

 ** _love is nothing (but a weakness)_**

 **vii.**

Lucas acts the same as always in the art room the day after their… 'moment.' He takes a seat at a table and spreads his books out while she paints. There's no heart to heart or clarification or anything. Maya lets her guard down, perched on her stool, immersed in the colors coming together. The scratching of his pencil and the thoughtful humming he makes as he works is a familiar background noise that puts her at ease instead of taking her out of her focus.

So when he walks up behind her, hands on either side of her stool seat, and leans over her shoulder to see her piece, her heart jumps a little in surprise. Because he usually checks her art out, but not this close, not this intimately. She can feel his thumbs against her thighs and his chest against her back, and she's reminded of the innocent joint-painting session they had just a few short months ago. It feels like longer though. Time away from him felt long and drawn out.

"I like it," he tells her, turning his head to meet her eyes.

"You like everything," she says, her voice a little unsteady.

He half-smiles. "Only when you make it."

Before she can say anything, he stands upright. "Bell's about to ring. Time to clean up." He holds a hand out to help her off her stool, and she takes it, more out of instinct than anything. But when her feet are firmly planted on the floor, he still has her hand, turning it this way and that as he admires the different splatters of paint that dot her skin. "You're not careful, you'll become your own canvas."

"Well, I have it on good authority that whatever I make is good, so maybe I'll make a few improvements."

His thumb rubs over her knuckles then. "Who says you need improving?"

"I'm pretty sure a few school guidance counselors have used that phrasing."

He shakes his head. "They just don't understand you."

"Oh yeah?" Her brow raises. "And you do?"

"I'm starting to." He smiles down at her. "I'm trying to." He raises her hand then, and kisses the top of it, and Maya shouldn't like that so much. It's cheesy and dumb and tooth-rottingly sweet, _but_ … it's also kind of, sort of, _nice_.

"All right, Howdy-Do." She tugs her hand out of his. "Take your charm elsewhere." Moving to the sink, she grabs the soap to scrub her hands free. She's so focused on it that she doesn't notice he's beside her until her paint brushes are in front of her. She'd forgotten them on the easel. Taking them from his outstretched fingers, she glances up at him, and rolls her eyes as he grins.

Lucas doesn't say anything; he just whistles as he goes about moving her piece to the back to dry, putting her easel away, and replacing her stool with the rest.

She's drying her hands on a paper towel when he holds her bag out for her. Maya hitches it over one shoulder and walks to the door. He tugs on her hair before he splits in the opposite direction. "See you tomorrow, Hart."

Her heat jumps up into her throat as she watches him go, and she wonders how much this is going to hurt in the end. She'd lay her money on 'a lot.'

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Lucas keeps up his touchy-feely, no personal space, weirdness until the end of the week and the official beginning of Spring Break. She's simultaneously relieved and disappointed that she won't see him for a week. Some part of her liked it, liked the attention and the touching and the way her heart jumped whenever he got close. It replayed that moment on the curb, over and over again, wondering what would've happened if his mother hadn't come out. Would he have kissed her? Did she want him to?

That was the big question, wasn't it? Because she did like him. A lot more than she wanted to. But liking someone and having them were two different things. And even though having him felt a lot more possible now than it did a few weeks ago, it couldn't erase the way her heart had dropped down to her toes when she saw him kissing Riley. Even Zay admitted they cared about each other, that they were on and off. In her experience that usually meant that 'on' was just around the corner. So what if giving into this, _whatever it was_ , meant getting her heart broken? Was he worth that? Was _anyone?_

There was an ice cream shop that Maya liked to visit on introspective days, so that's where she heads that first Saturday of blissful freedom. Board under her arm, she tucks it against the wall by the door before she makes her way to the selection. She's contemplating a double scoop in a waffle cone when she hears a dejected moaning noise.

Turning her head, she finds a brunette plastered to the glass, eyes darting in every direction. "Too many choices, so many choices, I want it _all_ …" she says.

Maya blinks. "Take it easy, moderation is key. Besides, you can always come back tomorrow, try another two kinds, space it out until you've tried 'em all."

Looking up, the brunette turns toward her. And Maya could laugh at the familiar face staring back at her, if only because life's a bitch keen on mocking her.

"I could! It could be a Spring Break goal."

"Seven days to eat twenty-eight different kinds of ice cream?" Maya snorts. "Good luck."

"Too much? Twenty-eight divided by seven, that's… Four scoops a day… I could have an afternoon bowl and a dessert bowl. Space it out so I don't get ice cream sick." She rubs a hand over her stomach. "That hurts."

Snorting, Maya shakes her head. "Wouldn't know."

"Really? You've never had one of their giant sundaes then, have you? With the sparklers and the sprinkles and the chocolate sauce!" Her eyes are the size of saucers, sparkling with glee. "Best. Sundae. _Ever_." Her shoulders slump. "Until you eat too much and daddy has to carry you over his shoulder because you fell into an ice cream coma and your brother takes pictures of you wearing most of it on your face…"

" _Wow_ ," Maya laughs.

"Not my best moment," she admits with a sigh.

"No, I'm guessing not."

Shrugging, she holds a hand out. "I'm Riley. Riley Matthews."

"Maya," she answers, reaching for her hand.

Riley tips her head curiously. "Maya Hart? You won that art scholarship last year, right? I went to the show, it was _amazing_."

"Oh, uh, thanks, I guess."

"I'm not much of an artist myself. Our teacher kicked me out for quote 'overuse of purple and cat-unicorns.' Like that's even _possible_."

Maya snorts and glances back at the ice cream. "So, what'd you pick for your first two?"

Clasping her hands, Riley rocks her upper body with a swing to her hips. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Maya looks down at the display. "I'm a fan of mint chip and chocolate peanut butter."

Nodding, Riley decides, "Sure!" Turning to the server behind the counter, she says, "Two scoops of mint chip and chocolate peanut butter in a bowl." Wrinkling her nose, she turns back to Maya and said, "I always break the cones. I hold them too tight. I just get so excited."

Grinning, Maya bites her lip. "Ice cream does that." When the server looks to her, she asks for the same on a waffle cone. She expects that she and Riley will go their separate ways, but the brunette waits for her by the till as she pays. "So, what do you think I should get tonight? I was thinking strawberry shortcake for one scoop, but I'm not sure about the other. Maybe maple walnut? Would those go together?"

Riley takes a seat at a table and looks expectantly at her, so Maya joins her, sliding into the seat across from her. "I don't know. I'm not a maple walnut fan, haven't had it since I was a kid."

"That's a long time not to have something. How do you know you don't like it now?" Riley wonders, her brow furrowed.

She shrugs. "I don't know. I usually just stick with what I know."

"Where's the fun in that?" Riley smiles as she digs a bite out of her ice cream. "You should come with me tonight. We can go on an ice cream adventure together! It'll be great!"

Maya doesn't know this girl. She's only ever heard stories from Charlie or Lucas or what little Zay said. From what she's heard though, Riley is harmless, a sweetheart to her core, and she seems completely genuine in her offer. It's a strange feeling, being accepted by this happy-go-lucky girl. They're complete opposites, she can already tell, but there's something strangely inviting about her, a pull about her that makes Maya want to stay in her orbit.

"Uh, sure, I guess. Can't say no to ice cream."

" _Yay_ ," Riley declares.

And Maya laughs. "Yay," she agrees.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Maya is pretty sure she has had enough ice cream to last her a life time. It's been four days and she'd gladly never touch another frozen milk product again. But, as much as she's tired of ice cream, she finds she does enjoy Riley's company. She's an optimistic, excitable, happy person, which Maya had once thought would drive her crazy, but doesn't. At least not from Riley.

That said, she's not stopping at Riley's place as she rides her board through Utopia. They'd gone their separate ways an hour earlier, after meeting up for two scoops of pistachio and double chocolate fudge. Instead, Maya finds herself in front of Lucas' house, hands tucked into the pockets of her jean shorts while she shifts back and forth on her board.

It doesn't take long for him to come out and meet her.

"Heard you and Riley have been going on ice cream dates," he says in greeting. "Why wasn't I invited?"

Maya shrugs. "Ice cream is a girl's game, Hop Along. Besides, maybe I like her better than you."

"Yeah?" He smiles as he stops just in front of her. Even on top of her board, she's still shorter than him, having to tilt her head to see him properly. His hands find her hips, squeezing gently, and her hands wrap around his forearms. "You ever gonna show me how to ride one of these things?" His voice is a little deeper, raspier than it usually is.

She can feel the heat of his hands through her shirt and it sends a little shiver through her, making her voice shake as she says, "Sure you got the guts?"

"Think I do," he murmurs, staring down into her eyes. "Reckon we'll find out."

Swallowing, she licks her lips. "You might fall," she warns.

His mouth ticks up. "You won't catch me?"

Maya doesn't answer. She just takes a step back, off her board, and his hands slide off her hips. "Sure you want try this?"

He stares at her. "Yeah. I am."

The moment is charged, full of a heavy tension, but eventually she casts her eyes away and breaks it. Turning her focus to the board, she puts all of her attention on showing him how to balance and kick off. And while she knows she won't be able to avoid the obvious forever, she's content to let it stand for now. Maybe it'll be different tomorrow, but for tonight, she shows him how to skateboard.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"We should open our own ice cream shop. We'll call it _Peaches_ ," Riley decides, tapping a plastic spoon against her mouth thoughtfully.

"Seriously? I think after this week is up, I'll officially write off ice cream altogether." Maya is sprawled across her side of the booth, the button of her jeans undone and a hand on her stomach. "Can you _become_ lactose intolerant? Because that's what I think is happening."

"We can make all the ice cream ourselves, with fresh produce and flavors, no dyes or artificial junk. And we'll wear t-shirts with our faces on it. I know someone with a connection to a t-shirt factory; we can have them specially made." Her brow furrows. "Can we make sprinkles? Is there a recipe for that? I'll have to research it…"

"Why are we going into business together?" Maya wonders. "Especially an ice cream business."

"You don't think it's lucrative enough?" Riley frowns disappointedly. "Even with the fresh toppings bar?"

"What toppings bar? When did we get a toppings bar?"

"We could have a fudge fountain too…" Her eyes light up. " _Fudge_."

Sighing, Maya shakes her head. "Fine. Sure. We'll have all of that." She waves a thumbs up at her. "Sign me up."

Riley grins. " _Yay_."

And Maya shakes her head, smiling to herself. "Yay."

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Maya, honey, can you give me a hand?"

Dropping her pencil on her sketchbook, Maya pushes up from her desk and makes her way out of her room, dragging her fingers down the hallway wall. "What's up, buttercup?"

Katy is half-leaned out of the door, pulling in something that looks like… a suitcase? "There's more in the car, but I need your hand getting it in. This door is a nightmare. We should call the landlord about it. It's always closing so quick. What's it trying to keep out?"

Maya snorts as she walks over, helping her mom dig the rolling suit case out from its wedged place in the door. "What's this for anyway?"

"It's luggage, for you to pack all your things in when you go to New York. I figure you'll leave your furniture and things, so you'll still have your room when you come back for the holidays. But you'll want to take all your clothes and stuff, right?" She smiles at her, tucking her loose hair back from her face.

"Uh…" Maya looks down at the suitcase and then up to her mom. "You know I'm not sure I'm going…"

"I know you're undecided," Katy agrees, nodding. "But I figure my girl is smart and she'll make the right choice, so I just want to prepared for when you do."

Maya rolls her eyes. " _Mom_ …"

"Come on, now. I need help getting the rest in here."

With that, she walks out the door, letting it snap closed behind her, putting an end to any of Maya's arguments. And sure, they'll eventually have to hash it out, but maybe not today. So she does as she's asked and goes out to help get the rest out of the truck. It's a nice set. Not brand new, but nice enough. Even if she's not sure about New York, she still hugs her mom in thanks, because as much as Katy is adding a little pressure to things, Maya knows it's only because she cares. Better that than not caring at all, she supposes.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"Admit it, I'm getting better."

Maya rolls her eyes. "You're falling less."

He grins at her knowingly.

Privately, to herself, she'll admit he's gotten better. It's the end of spring break and, while he won't be winning any competitions any time soon, he can stay up and competently ride her board around the street. He's still a little shaky when he gets a little speed behind him and he's nowhere near ready to try any tricks, but it's progress.

When he eventually comes to a stop in front of her, sitting on the curb, he smiles down at her, chin on his chest. "It's getting late."

Maya checks her watch and, sure enough, it's after ten. "Shit." She pushes up from the ground and dusts off her backside of any debris. "Mom's shift ends soon. If I'm not home, she'll kill me."

Hopping off her board, he picks it up. "Let me drive you."

Maya frowns. "It's fine. I can probably make it back before she does. She's probably gotta wipe the windows down anyway. That gives me extra time."

" _Maya_ …" he insists. "Just let me drive you."

She shifts side to side on her feet. "My house isn't like yours. I live in a trailer park."

"So?" He shrugs. "It's just a house."

Maybe to him.

"Stay here. I've gotta grab my keys." He hikes his brows at her meaningfully. "Don't go anywhere."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Hurry up then!"

Turning on his heel, he jogs to his house and ducks inside. It's a couple minutes before he comes back and waves at her to join him. His truck isn't brand new, but it's a lot newer than her mom's car.

She hops into the passenger side and puts her board down between her legs. "Your mom didn't ask where you were going?"

"She already went to bed. It's fine. I'll be back before my curfew anyway."

"You have a curfew?" Her brows furrow. "Do you ever go anywhere?"

"Hey!" He laughs, backing his truck out of the driveway. "I go places."

"Really? You're always here when I come by."

"Maybe I stick around so I'll be here if you decide to visit. You ever think of that?"

She stares at his side profile, frowning. "Why do you like me?" she wonders.

"What?" He looks at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… Why did you talk to me? Why did you want to hang out? Why did you look for me in the art room?"

"I don't know." He shifts in his seat. "Why'd you let me?"

Maya blinks, and then turns to look out at the road. "Southern hospitality," she tells him. "My mother raised me to be polite."

He snorts. "Really?"

"What, you don't think I'm polite?"

He grins. "Not if you can help it."

Maya shrugs, smiling. "Maybe."

They drive in silence for a while then, with Maya occasionally giving him directions. She could turn on the radio, but she kind of likes it. The window's open and a cool breeze breaks over her skin and sends her hair dancing.

It doesn't take him nearly as long to drive her home as it would have for her to skateboard back, but she's almost disappointed by that. She kind of liked the quiet ride, just sitting with him. She's not sure when it was it became so easy for them to be together, but it's nice.

"I'm up there, on the right," she tells him, pointing.

He pulls into her driveway, thankfully absent of her mother's car. "You ride your skateboard that far to see me?"

"Not just to see you," she defends. "I was going out there long before I met you."

"I know, I saw you." He ducks his eyes, hands still resting on the wheel. "I was going to talk to you before, a few times… I told you the first time I saw you was when you were drawing mama's roses, but… I saw you before that."

"So why didn't you? Talk to me, I mean."

He shrugs. "Didn't know what to say, I guess… Took some time to get my courage up."

"I guess talking to strange girls you've never met before does take some courage," she muses. "I could've been a serial killer or something."

His mouth twitches. "The shortest one there ever was, I'd bet."

"Shut up," she mutters, reaching over to shove his shoulder.

He laughs, and catches her hand. He doesn't let go, instead he rubs his thumb over her knuckles and down her fingers. "I like you for a lot of reasons, Maya. I liked you before I even talked to you. How confident you were, how focused and passionate you were when I'd see you drawing… And after we talked, that didn't change, it just… It got stronger, I guess. I wanted to know more about you, who you were and what you liked and… I don't know. When I found you in the art room, I thought maybe that'd be the end of it. We'd talk and you'd tell me to get lost or something. But you didn't. You let me stay and, well, I wanted to. I still do." He folds their fingers together, their palms joined. "I know you think we're different, and maybe we are, but I think we're the same too, at least in the ways that count."

She worries for a moment that her palm might be sweating, but then she forgets, because his thumb is tenderly rubbing from the tip of her thumb, down along the dip, and up to the top of her forefinger. And she's never been touched so gently, so reverently, as she is in that moment. She doesn't know what it means, not completely, but she knows what she wants it to mean.

And then lights bounce over his dashboard and Maya turns her head to see her mom pulling in.

 _Shit_.

Katy is all curious smiles as she climbs out of her car. "Hey there, babygirl… Who's this?"

Maya doesn't realize she's gripping Lucas' hand until he taps her wrist.

"Evening, ma'am," he greets. "I'm Lucas Friar. I was just giving Miss Maya a ride home."

"Well, isn't that sweet of you?" She arches her brows at Maya, looking amused and excited, and Maya rolls her eyes in reply. "You go to school with Maya, Lucas?"

"I do, ma'am."

"Is that where you two met then? You have classes together?" she wonders.

"Lucas is smart, mom. He's in all AP classes. He lives out in Briar Valley. We ran into each other while I was sketching."

"Oh really? Briar Valley. That's a nice neighborhood."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Stop ma'am'ing her, Huckleberry." Maya bumps his arm with her shoulder.

"I can't help it, I'm nervous," he mutters back.

"Nothing to be nervous about," Katy assures, grinning. "I've had a long day; I think I'm gonna go on inside. You two say your goodbyes, you've got some time before curfew." She hitches her bag on her shoulder. "It was nice meeting you, Lucas."

"You too, ma— Uh, Miss Hart," he replies, nodding.

Smiling, she waves a hand and, as she makes her way toward the stairs leading to the door, she looks back to wink at her daughter.

Maya groans and sinks lower in her seat. When the screen door snaps shut and she looks up, Lucas is grinning at her. " _What?_ "

"Nothing… Your mom is nice."

"Yeah, yeah." She sits up and grabs her skateboard up. "See you at school tomorrow?"

He nods. "Art room or library?"

"Library. I have a calculus quiz coming up."

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

Maya untangles her hand from his, but he gives it a tug.

"You need a ride in tomorrow?" he wonders. "I could pick you up, if you want."

She stares at him a long moment, and then glances away.

"It's not a big deal. If you'd rather skateboard or your mom drives you or something…"

"I can chip in for gas," she says, her chin lifted, warning him not to argue.

Lucas just smiles. "All right, if you want to."

"What time are you leaving?"

"I can be here at eight."

Maya nods. "Okay."

"Okay."

She looks back at him, squeezes his hand, and then lets go. She pushes the door open and hops down, skateboard at her side. "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime…" He smirks. " _Ma'am._ "

Maya rolls her eyes, smothering a grin, and then steps back, closing the door behind her. She waves at him over her shoulder as she walks to her stairs and climbs them. He waits until she's inside before he pulls away, and she absolutely refuses to think that's sweet.

Her mom is waiting for her.

"Don't start," she sighs.

"Lucas Friar from Briar Valley is _cute_ ," Katy declares, ignoring her wishes completely.

" _Mom_ …"

"When did you two get together anyway? And why didn't I hear about it, huh?"

"We're not together." She puts her skateboard by the door and pulls off her jean jacket to hang on the hook. "We're just friends… if that."

"Oh, Maya…" Katy shakes her head.

" _What?_ " She walks off to the kitchen to dig around in the fridge for something to eat. "Don't read into it, okay? He just gave me a ride home."

"Yeah? You always hold hands with your ride home, or was he the exception?"

Pausing, she glances into the living room and her mom staring back at her knowingly. "It wasn't… It was just a _thing_. He was just… I don't _know_. It's complicated, okay?"

"Love usually is, babygirl."

Maybe it's the uncertainty or the pressure or the fact that she's never been this _close_ to it before, but Maya feels herself _snap_. "He doesn't want me. He's not in love with me. He is _never_ going to be in love with me!" she declares, louder than she means to.

Katy's smile fades then. "Maya, honey, are you okay…?"

"I'm fine! Really. I just…" She takes a deep breath and lets it out on a sigh. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was just some guy that I met and then he was always there and he liked my art and he's just— He's _so_ …" She grinds her teeth. "But it's a moot point, seriously. Because he has a Riley, and Riley is amazing, okay? She is funny and sweet and smart and I may or may not be opening an ice cream shop with her at some point in the distant future. I don't know!" She tosses her hands up in defeat. "But I know that they have history and they kissed and she fits with him in a way I never can and I just… I just wish I could stop _feeling_ this way all the time. Because I don't want to do this! I don't want to hope for something I am _never_ going to have."

"Never is a strong word, and a long time… Even if Lucas isn't the one, that doesn't mean you aren't going to find someone that you love and who loves you."

"What, like you did? Like Lucas' mom did? Dad left you. He left both of us. And Lucas' dad, he's cheating on his wife and he has no time for Lucas, and he might as well have left for all that he does for his family. And… That's what they do, right? They _leave_."

"Now, I can't speak for Lucas' daddy, I can only speak for yours, and even then, it's only what I know." Katy stands from her seat on the couch. "What Kermit did was hurtful, and I know that pain isn't going anywhere anytime soon. It's dug its claws in deep with you and you have every right to be angry at him for walking away like he did. Because you deserved better, Maya. You deserved a daddy in your life. And I'm sorry you didn't have one. But what Kermit did, that's not what they all do. There are _good_ people out there, baby. And I don't know if Lucas is one of them, you'd know better than me, but I do know that you _deserve_ to be loved, and I don't want you to throw it away before you ever have it because you're scared." Standing in front of her now, she reaches out, brushing Maya's hair back from her face. "Sometimes we get our heart broken. It's gonna happen, you can't avoid that. But sometimes we get it mended too."

Maya sniffs, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I don't wanna love him. I don't wanna love anyone."

"You sure that's it? Hm?" She wipes at her tears her with her thumb. "Or do you just not wanna be hurt or left behind?"

Maya hiccups on a sob and surges forward, burying her face against Katy's shoulder. She wraps her arms around her mother's waist and holds on tight as she cries. Shushing her, Katy rubs Maya's back and smooths a hand over her hair, rocking her from side to side.

And maybe Katy can't promise that won't happen, but she does promise that if it does, she will always be there to help her through it.

* * *

 **author's note** : _riley is adorable, seriously. her friendship with maya will be an on-going thing too, growing with the story, which i'm happy about, because maya and riley need each other. the band is slowly coming together. farkle will be along soon enough. as well as smackle, because reasons. and more zay! :)_

 _thank you for reading! please try to leave a review!_

 **\- lee | fina**


	8. heart disease

**chapter rating** : pg-13/teen  
 **warning** : casual discussion of sexual history  
 **word count** : 5,516

* * *

 ** _love is nothing (but a weakness)_**

 **viii.**

Somehow, Lucas picking her up in the morning for school becomes a _thing_. He's always there, 8 o'clock sharp, idling in her driveway as he waits for her to come out. Her mom is long gone, off to open the diner for the early birds. Maya climbs into the truck and hands him half of her giant muffin, still warm from the microwave.

Lucas pops it into his mouth and keeps it balanced there as he pulls out of the driveway. When they're cruising down the road, headed for the school, he releases the muffin from his teeth, minus a large bite. "You ready for the quiz?"

"Kind of." She puts her feet up on his dash and flips through her notes. "Why do we even _have_ quizzes? This is torture. They replaced corporal punishment with tests."

Lucas snorts. "It's not that bad. You've done well on all of them so far."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't in calculus." She grimaces. "I _loathe_ math."

"You'll do fine." He pops the last chunk of muffin in his mouth before reaching for the black travel mug in the cup holder in front of him. "Here, it's just the way you like it."

"Hot and dark like my soul?"

"Yup."

Grinning, Maya makes grabby hands at it. "Is this your mouth print? Are we sharing?"

Lucas shrugs. "I only have one travel mug. What? You worried about cooties?"

"I don't know where your mouth's been," she says, but takes a sip from the cup anyway, because she's tired and she needs her morning joe.

"Do you wanna know where it's been?" He's sounding a lot more serious than usual, and she pauses.

"What?"

"Do you wanna know?" he repeats. "Do you want to have that conversation?"

"No. _Ew_. I don't need your list of conquests." Her nose scrunches up. "If I have to stick my fingers in my ears and hum, I will!"

Rolling his eyes, Lucas shakes his head. "Four."

"Five. Now you say six and we'll see how high we get before we reach the school."

"No." He laughs. "I've kissed four girls."

Maya blinks at him and tips her head skeptically. " _Really?_ "

"Really," he asserts, nodding. "The first was Riley, in seventh grade. She was my first girlfriend too. We were on and off for a long time. In ninth grade, I kissed Missy Bradford… Or Missy kissed me. There was some mistletoe and manipulation involved." His brow furrows before he shrugs. "Then Smackle kissed me in tenth grade, which I'm pretty sure was a social experiment. I'm a little fuzzy on the details. She sent me a report about it later, with a reference page and everything, but I gave up when even the dictionary couldn't define some of the words she was using."

Shifting in her seat to see him better, she murmurs, "Huh. So… Who was the fourth?"

He takes a deep breath, as if shoring up his courage. "There was a girl named Lacey last year, we, uh, met after we won the baseball championship. There was a party and I guess she was friends with someone hosting. We got to talking and…" He trails off, shifting in his seat, and looks a little like he's regretting bringing the subject up.

"Well, out with it, Huckleberry. All you do was kiss or was Lacey Lucas's first?"

He frowns, hand flexing on the steering wheel. "You called me Lucas again."

"The alliteration was too good to pass up," she admits, shrugging. "And you're dodging the question."

"She was my first," he admits. "It was a spur of the moment thing. Didn't really think it out. We tried dating after, but we didn't really click, so… We went our separate ways, amicably."

She nods. "And then you and Riley were back on again."

"For a while. It's just familiar, I guess. Easy for us to drift back to each other when we don't have someone else."

Maya hums, looking back out the window, her hands wrapped around the travel mug to keep them warm.

"It's not a big deal," he tells her. "Me and Riley, we… We always try but it never works out. Farkle thinks it's because like forces repel. We're too similar to stay together for too long." His brow knits. "Zay thinks it's because she wants me to be someone I can't be for her."

"Her prince," Maya murmurs.

"Yeah." He turns to her, surprised. "How did you…?"

"Oh, I've talked to Zay. He's… interesting." She shrugs. "He came to see me in the art room, after we had our little hiatus… _thing_."

"He did? What'd he say?"

Shrugging, Maya hands him the coffee back and watches as he takes a drink and then balances it on his thigh. "Just that I should talk to you. And he was tired of your moping."

"I didn't _mope_."

Maya raises an eyebrow.

"I moped a _little_ ," he admits. "But I was upset, and confused. I didn't know why you weren't talking to me anymore. That'd make anybody mope."

"Uh-huh. Well, Zay was just trying to be a good friend. So he dropped by, sung your praises, begged me to put you out of your misery, and then left."

He glances over at her curiously. "So is that what did it? Is that why you came to see me?"

"No. I appreciated the solid effort, but I didn't do what he asked. Honestly, I don't know why I headed up there. I wasn't planning to, I just kind of… wound up there." She plucks at the draw-string belt of her shirt.

"Right in front of my house?"

Maya rolls her eyes. "I don't know. Maybe I missed you. A little."

He smiles slowly. "Just a little?"

"Don't push your luck."

Taking another drag from the coffee, he hands it back to her. "Well, whatever made it happen, I'm glad."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nods. "I like hanging out with you, and when I wasn't, it was weird. I just felt… I don't know. Like I was missing something."

"My glorious wit and shining personality?" she jokes.

With a grin, he says, "Yeah, exactly."

Maya smiles, but shakes her head and turns her gaze out the window. "Huckleberry," she mutters.

They turn into the parking lot of the school then and she puts her focus on getting her bag together, putting her notes away, and grabbing up her skateboard. "You've got practice after school today, right?"

"Yeah. If you wanna wait around though, I can drive you home."

"It's fine." She shakes her head. "I need to go to the diner anyway. I picked up a dinner shift."

Grabbing his own bag up, he asks, "Art room today?"

"Mmhmm. I need to finish a piece for next week."

"The orange one?"

"It's not _just_ orange." Hopping out, she closes the door behind her and walks around to the back, waiting for him to join her.

Backpack hitched over his shoulder, he meets her at the tail gate and they start toward the school. "It's mostly orange."

"Yeah, well, I'm not finished yet."

"It looks like fire." His brows hike. "Hey, we should have a bonfire down at the lake."

"What, just the two of us? Kind of a waste of a fire, don't you think?"

"Not just us. We can invite Zay, Riley, and Farkle too." His mouth twitches. "Riley said you and her were opening an organic ice cream shop…?"

Sighing, Maya shakes her head. "It's a long story, but yeah, basically."

"Named Peaches?" He sounds amused.

"You don't like it?"

"I don't get it."

"Well, you don't have to. It's not your shop."

Lucas laughs under his breath. "Well, what if I'm the best customer? Shouldn't I understand why it's called Peaches?"

"If you're our best customer then clearly not knowing the name of the shop hasn't hindered business so far." She shrugs. "Anyway, I think we're doing branches. She said I could run the New York branch and she'd run the one here. Then when we went global, we'd hire underlings. Who knows, maybe we'll set you up with your own Peaches some day." She pats his chest and says, "Goals!"

"If I'm the manager, you're gonna have to let me in on the secret."

"A good underling does as he's told and doesn't ask questions," she tells him.

"Uh-huh." Lucas walks with her to her locker, an eyebrow raised. "Well, what if I don't want to be an underling? What if I want to be a partner?"

"Sorry, can't do it. Peaches is a strictly lady-owned business. You can manage, but you can't co-own."

"Well, what if I make my own ice cream place and give you a little competition? Me, Zay and Farkle could put it together."

"Are you threatening the future of Peaches?" She stares up at him through narrowed eyes. "Because we didn't get globally known by playing nice. I mean, Riley might, but if I have to pull some strings in the background, I will."

"You think you can take me?" he asks, taking a step closer to her.

Lifting up on her tip toes, she stares into his face. "Reckon we'll find out."

She can hear her heart pounding in her ears as she stares up at him, a few inches of dead air between their mouths that she suddenly wishes she could eradicate.

And then Zay is walking by, saying, "Sexual tension alert! Look away, children, things are heating up in Lucayaville."

Maya leans back, and then frowns after the boy. "Lucayaville?"

"Yeah, it— It's a thing." Lucas rubs a hand down the back of his neck. "He's been saying that for a while. It's a portmanteau?"

"Natalie Portman, what?"

Laughing, he explains, " _Portmanteau_. It's our names joined together to make a new word. Lucas and Maya – Lucaya."

"Oh, so like Brangelina, only less infidelity and neither of us used to wear a vile of blood."

He blinks at her. "Vile of _what_?"

"Google it." Shoving her skateboard into her locker, she checks her bag to make sure she has everything she needs for first period and then closes the door with her leg. Hugging the travel mug to herself, she tells him, "Wish me luck on my quiz."

"Good luck on your quiz," he replies obediently.

"'Kay. See you at lunch."

She pats his chest once more, but just as she's about to walk past him, he ducks down, fingers skimming her chin as he presses a kiss to her cheek.

Maya skitters to a stop. "What was that?"

Lucas grins at her as he starts backing up, holding the strap of his bag across his chest. "For luck." Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks away.

Maya stares after him, and then shakes her head. She needs to focus on her calc quiz, not him. But even by third period, she can feel the buzz of where his lips met her cheek.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

It's been three days since Lucas kissed her cheek and he doesn't seem to be acting any differently, so Maya takes her cue from him and shrugs it off. It was probably some weird friend _thing_. It's not like she has a ton of experience with friendship. She's had friends, of course, but she's just always been more of a lone wolf, more comfortable keeping people at arm's length. Obviously, some people aren't receiving that message, but then again, she's not broadcasting it very loudly of late.

"How do you feel about a salad/ice cream _fusion_ bar?"

Riley walks up to Maya in between classes, hooks an arm through hers, and begins the conversation just like that. Somehow, Maya isn't surprised.

"What's your thinking on this? That if the ice cream doesn't get them, then the salad will draw the health nuts in?"

"Sure! And if they want to mix the two, that's up to them." She smiles serenely and waves a hand. "We don't judge!"

"We judge a little," Maya counters.

"I'm not sure how that'll go over as a slogan." Tapping her chin, she wonders aloud, "Maybe we could have it audience tested…"

Shaking her head, Maya tugs Riley down a connecting hallway. " _Or_ , Peaches could be the salad bar on one side and Cream could be the ice cream shop on the other side. We'll call it—"

"Peaches n' Cream! _Ohh!_ " Riley starts bouncing up and down excitedly.

Knowingly, Maya forms the word with her mouth while Riley shouts it— " _Yay!_ "

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"We got any red vines left?"

Maya eyes the torn open bag of red vines on the table. "That depends… If I say yes, do I have to get it?"

Her mother snorts and nudges Maya's leg with her foot. "You know the rule. Whoever's closest has to get it."

"What if you're closer in _spirit_ , does that count?"

Katy laughs. "I handed you your Junior Mints, you can get me my red vines."

"Are you sure? It's late, we've had a lot of junk food, maybe it's time to throw in the towel…"

"I have one night off this whole week, if I have to spend it in a sugar coma, you're damn right I will. Now hand me those red vines!"

With a put-upon sigh, Maya leans herself off the couch and reaches as far as her arm will stretch. She just grazes the edge of the bag and lets out a grunt as she pushes herself. Finally, she hooks a finger and pulls it over, catching it in her palm before she passes it back to her mom. They're spending their Friday watching B-rated horror movies and pigging out on absolutely nothing of nutritious value. Maya's pretty sure she'll have a sugar hangover when she wakes up tomorrow, but, for now, she's just happy to be hanging out with her mom.

"Hey, weren't we gonna do manicures or something?"

"I don't wanna move," Maya whines.

"You know if we did pedicures, we could do them lying down just like this."

Maya thinks on it, and then shifts up onto her elbows to see her mom. She wiggles her eyebrows. "Who's going to get the nail polish?"

Katy grins back. "Well now, I'm way ahead of you." Reaching behind her head, she dangles her bag of colorful nail polishes.

Maya nods. "Cool. Pick your color and hand 'er over."

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

"So I hear there might be an ice cream/salad fusion bar opening up in the unspecified future."

Maya looks up as Zay takes a seat on a stool at the front counter of the diner. She's just finished her shift and, after changing out of her uniform, is counting out her day's tips. "Peaches n' Cream, yeah. Which side are you on?"

"I'm a fusion kinda guy." He points at himself. "I'm open minded like that."

Nose wrinkled, she shakes her head. "Whatever gets your gizzard, Babineaux."

He grins. " _So_ … What're you doing?"

"Counting." She waves her mediocre wad of wrinkled cash. "I'm rolling in it."

With a snort, he says, "Great, then you can buy lunch."

"Buy what now?" She frowns. "Who am I going to lunch with?"

"Me, obviously. Can't you tell I'm starving?"

"Can't _you_ tell you're standing in a place that serves food?"

"Yeah, but I'm thinkin' something _fried_."

"Personally, I'm a toasted tuna sandwich kinda girl."

"Nah, I'm cravin' chicken wings, basket of fries."

She shrugs. "We've got the fries, but no wings here."

"Guess we'll just have to go somewhere else." He nods down at her money. "You about done?"

"Just about."

With a smirk, Zay nods, knocks his knuckles against the counter, and hops off his stool. "C'mon then."

Wadding up her money, she tucks it into her jeans pocket. With a sigh, she circles the counter to meet him, waving at Theresa, taking orders. "Is this another unsolicited counseling session?" she wonders, following Zay outside.

"Hey, I'm no one-trick pony!" He sounds dramatically offended. "Honestly, I figure since you're buddying up to two of my three best friends, I might as well hop on the Maya train now, establish myself before Farkle sneaks in."

Maya snorts. "There's no train, and if there was, nobody would be on it."

"Well, see, I'm gonna have to disagree about that. All I hear from Riley these days is Maya this, Peaches that."

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. "We had ice cream a few times, she wants to open a shop, it's a whole thing. An inside joke, really."

"You sure about that?" His brows hike. "I'm pretty sure she has a whole business plan put together."

Laughing lightly, Maya shrugs. "She's great."

"Yeah, she is. You know who else is great?"

Maya raises an eyebrow.

" _Me_." He points at himself with both thumbs. "And I'm here to prove it. So, I was thinking a greasy lunch and some laser tag. You up for it, Hart?"

Biting her lip to hide a smile, she nods. "Sure. But just so you know, I eat a lot of chicken wings. And I'm a laser tag _champion_."

"Now that's what I like to hear." He rubs his hands together excitedly. "Let's put your words to the test!"

"You're on, Babineaux!"

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

The first time Maya sets foot in the Matthews household, she thinks she might've just stepped foot into a family sitcom. Because Auggie Matthews is staging a no-pants revolution, a boxer-clad Cory Matthews thinks he might have the right idea, and Riley's mom, Topanga, watches them from the doorway of her living room with her arms crossed and an expression on her face that is equal measures exasperated and fond. Maya waits for the laugh track and finds herself just a little disappointed when it doesn't come.

"Mom, this is Maya." Riley gestures to the girl beside her like she's a new car on the Price is Right, her arms splayed high and low. "She's my future business partner and ice cream aficionado."

"Oh, is she?" Topanga holds a hand out to her. "It's nice to meet you, Maya. I've heard a lot about you. Probably more than you would've wanted me to. Definitely more than I needed to. In fact, I feel pretty capable of writing your autobiography right about now."

Riley beams. " _Friendship_ ," she exclaims gleefully.

Topanga laughs under her breath and pats her daughter's shoulder. "It's been a long time since Riley came home with someone new. In fact…" She frowns. "I don't think she's made any new friends since middle school."

"I'm a social butterfly, but I like my friends' group tight knit." She folds her fingers together for emphasis. "And now you're a part of it."

"Can I be the pinkie?" Maya wonders.

Topanga's brows hike and her smile widens. "Are you staying for dinner, Maya?"

"Uh, I don't know. I'm not entirely sure how I got here. One minute we were talking about the pros and cons of a white, milk and dark chocolate fountain, and the next I was told we needed to visit a bay window… And here we are." She waves her hands and twists at the waist as she looks around. "Does the no-pants revolution apply to guests? I mean, I'm not technically wearing any, but…"

Topanga grins. "Not if they're sane."

"Huh. Guess it's a toss up then. We'll see what happens."

Riley moves toward the stairs then, dragging Maya by the hand as she goes.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Matthews."

"You too, Maya. And call me Topanga."

Maya salutes before she's dragged out of sight and down the hall to a room that has a pink and purple sign hanging on the door, marking it as Riley's. As the door is thrown open, she's hit with a wave of colour. Everything is bright and excited and unabashedly Riley. Especially the small collection of unicorns sitting atop the shelves of her bookcase.

"So. This is the window? The famed _magical_ window."

Walking toward it, Riley takes a seat in her bay window, overlooking the curved street below. Her long tie of her wrap-around top swings out and then settles in her lap.

"This is where all the big stuff happens. Where I ask life's questions and occasionally get an answer back. It's where all the milestones happen. Where me and my mom sit and talk, or where me and my friends hash things out. So yeah, it's magical, in a not completely magical and mostly just important kind of way." She pats the seat next to her. "I want you to join me."

Maya walks toward it slowly, eyeing the seat skeptically. "I don't know. It sounds kind of sacred."

With a genuine smile, not quite as sugary sweet as its been in the past, Riley looks up at her and says, "It _is_." She pats the seat again. "And I want to share it with you."

"You're sure about this? Because—"

Riley holds out a hand for her. "I know sometimes I'm silly and you're, well, _not_. And maybe you mostly put up with that silliness, but it doesn't feel like that. It feels like… Like you _embrace_ it. Embrace _me_. And I know I'm unique and maybe even a little weird, but I'm _me_ , and the number of people that have ever really understood that is pretty small. In fact, besides my family, there's three, four if you include Smackle, but she's still figuring out people in general, so I feel like I'm a variable she's not ready to explore yet. And now there's you." She wiggles her fingers askingly. "So, if you want, then… join me."

Maya stares at the hand and then the seat.

She's had friends, sure. Acquaintances, mostly. She and Brandon talk sometimes, but mostly nod at each other in passing, whenever she skateboards home; he's always out on his porch or working on his Camaro in the driveway. Her and Charlie Gardner are acquaintances verging on friends, having known each other since grade three. She was pretty good friends with the neighbor's twin daughters, Sarah and Lauren, from kindergarten to grade five, walking to and from school together every day, until they moved away just before middle school. And she has a few people in each of her classes that she always partners up with when they have to do group projects. But, in all honesty, for most of her life, the closest person she's ever been to is her mom. Until these last few months, at least, when suddenly she had Lucas and Zay and yeah, Riley. She didn't expect it. Didn't expect her and Riley to start hanging out and talking, but they did, and, in a weird way, they really click.

So she takes her outstretched hand, and she smiles as Riley grins goofily, and she lets herself be towed toward the magical bay window, and right into a stable and supportive friendship with the odd, and equally awesome, Riley Matthews.

* * *

 **[…]**

* * *

Lucas is driving her home, and Maya stares out the window, her mind wandering and never quite settling on one particular thing.

"You're quiet today," he says.

Her feet are on his dash, boots display. "Maybe I'm a quiet person."

Lucas' eyebrow ticks up at her, unconvinced. "Not in my experience."

"Well, maybe you have less experience with me than you think," she snarks.

He grins. "All right. Well, then, I think we should change that."

She frowns over at him, brows furrowed, as he flicks his turning signal on and takes them off their usually scheduled path back to her place. "Where are you going?"

"You don't have a shift tonight, right?"

"No…"

"Good, then we've got some time to waste."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she replies, "Who says I want to waste time?"

"Boy, you're just spoiling for a fight, huh?" He laughs under his breath, unperturbed by her sour mood. She doesn't know why she's being combative. She just woke up irritated today and she can't shake it. "Come on, let me try and cheer you up. What's the worst that could happen?"

She shuffles lower in her seat and shrugs. "Whatever you want, Huckleberry. You're the man behind the steering wheel."

"All right then."

He reaches for the radio and fiddles with it, turning it to something entirely too country. Maya's spent most of her life in Texas, and her mama would say that she's a country girl somewhere deep, _deep_ down inside her. And, true, there've been a few times that Maya let herself get caught up in the kind of music her mama loves to sing and dance to in their tiny living room. But country has never been high on her musical preferences. Which is why she lets out a groan when he pulls up to a little square dancing bar and grill.

"Can we even get in here?" she wonders, reaching down to pull her sneakers back on. "Don't they ID people?"

"I know the owner; he'll let us in. We just can't drink." He pushes open his door and hops out, and Maya follows suit, a little irritated that she has to jump while his legs are long enough to reach the ground. She meets him around the front of the truck and peers up at the sign overhanging the front doors. "This is cheesy as hell," she tells him.

Lucas grins. "I know." He steps forward, pushing the swinging door open, and motions for her to go first.

Rolling her eyes, she steps through with him on her heels. The inside is just as cheesy as she expects, decorated with cowboy regalia, lassos, and bull skulls. There's an open floor space, mostly empty, cordoned off for square dancing, while the rest of the place is elevated, dressed in wood tables and stools to enjoy the barbecue she can smell filling the air. Her stomach grumbles appreciatively and she hopes the music is loud enough it drowns the sound out. When Lucas looks at her, amused, she knows it isn't.

"C'mon," he says, before grabbing her hand and pulling her along toward the bar. His fingers are long, his palm much wider than her own, and his hand seems to swallow hers entirely. But it's warm and… _nice_ , she supposes.

"Hey, Harley."

The bartender looks up and grins at them. He has thin blond hair, slicked back and receding atop his head, a dark goatee, and some sharp looking sideburns. "Lucas, hey there. What brings you out this way? Haven't seen you in a while."

Lucas shrugs. "One of those days, thought we'd see what we could do about making it better."

"You came to the right place, my friend." He tosses a rag over his shoulder, showing off black, fingerless gloves, and nods his chin. "And who's your lady here?"

"Maya Hart," she introduces herself. "I'm more of a Zeppelin fan. Any chance we can ho-down to that instead?"

Harley laughs. "I like you, kid. But I'm afraid the set list can't be changed."

"We'll survive." Lucas leans in, hand on the bar. "Who's on the grill today?"

"Geralyn; she just threw some ribs on. You hungry?"

"Starving!"

"I'll let her know; they'll be out pronto."

"Great. Thanks, Harvey!"

"No problem. You two have a good time."

Lucas tugs her away from the bar then, leading her toward a table overlooking the dancefloor.

"We're not really going to put on our best dancing shoes, right?" she asks. "Because I gotta tell you, these feet don't cut rugs."

He grins, shaking his head. "Not yet. Maybe in a little bit." He takes a seat on a stool, and Maya slides onto the one across from her, arms resting atop the table. "So? What's bothering you?"

She glances at him. "Just one of those days, I don't know."

"You've been moody for a while. Especially any time someone brings up New York."

Her lips pinch.

"Like that." He points at her mouth. "Like you're upset someone's even asking. What's that about?" His brow furrows. "I thought you wanted to go to New York."

"I do." She sighs, reaching up to run her hand through her hair. "I don't know. I just… New York is _huge_. And I don't just mean that in a geographical way. I mean it's the big leagues and I'm not even on a team."

"You wouldn't have won if you weren't talented. I've seen your art, Maya. You're great. And even if you weren't, you _love_ it. Isn't that what really matters?"

"Loving something doesn't make it work. What if I get there and I realize that everything I love and everything I've done is just… _garbage_? I've seen the kind of art the people at that school do. Artists, _real_ artists, there's something about their work, about what they do, that speaks to you, to your soul. It's like— You look at what they've made and you just know what they're trying to say."

"Well, you only know that because they went ahead and said it. If you never get out there and say what you need to say then nobody is going to hear it." He shakes his head. "I'm not saying that New York is a guarantee. Nothing ever is. You could go out there and hate it. Or you could go and find that it's everything you ever wanted it to be and more. But the important part is that you _go_."

She huffs, rolling her eyes. "You tryin' to get rid of me, Huckleberry?"

"No," he says, his eyes soft and his smile gentle. "But I want you to be happy."

Maya stares back at him searchingly, her heart thudding in her chest. And she can't ignore it this time, the incessant trilling of a message coming at her that she's been trying so desperately to ignore. While the rest of her has tried to ignore the obvious, to play dumb to what's been happening and growing, another part of her is fully aware and only getting more and more attached to an idea that feels as light as air and as heavy as lead all at the same time.

And then Harley is there, putting a couple glasses of Coke down in front of them, and the moment passes them by. Maya swallows the feeling, as she often does, and changes the subject to something else. She tells him about beating Zay at laser tag and that Riley may or may not be writing up possible contracts with local business owners that work with fresh produce to help with their ice cream/salad bar. She talks about anything and everything that will keep her preoccupied enough that she doesn't have to think about the way here heart keeps thudding, louder and louder each time he smiles and laughs and just looks at her. At how it skips a beat when he reaches across to swipe barbecue sauce from her chin. At how it crawls up into her throat with all the questions she doesn't want answered, like does he feel the same, or is love just a different form of heart disease, equally capable of killing her.

They don't make it out on the dance floor, not after she eats her weight in ribs, but she has a feeling they'll come back, and one day he might just drag her out to get her feet moving. One day, she might let him.

It's not until they pull up to her house that she realizes she feels better. The weight of earlier in the day, of everything to do with New York has passed for now. There are other pressing issues she needs to figure out, but she feels pretty good about her ability to ignore them. At least, more often than not.

His truck idles in the driveway as he looks over at her. "All right?"

"Mmhmm." She digs her bag out from the floor and opens the truck door to hop out. But she pauses for a moment, frowning to herself. And then, before she can think about it too much, she shuffles across the seat and plants a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks… for today."

He stares up at her, mouth turned up in that faint, crooked smile of his. "Any time," he says, and tips an imaginary hat at her.

Maya rolls her eyes, and moves to leave, but his hand on her wrist makes her pause.

"I mean that," he says, staring at her. "Just say the word… I'll be there."

Maya meets his heavy gaze for a long, heavy moment, and then she nods. "Okay."

His fingers slowly release her wrist and she lingers a few seconds longer before eventually climbing out of his truck.

"See you tomorrow," he tells her as she pushes the door closed.

Maya waves and walks up the stairs. He waits until she's inside before he pulls away. She drops her bag on the arm chair and then flops onto her couch. That boy's going to break her heart, she just knows it.

* * *

 **author's note** : _small introduction to the matthews family here, but we'll see more of them in future. :)_

 _thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it! please try to leave a review!_

 **\- lee | fina**


	9. memories

**chapter rating** : pg-13/teen  
 **warning** : casual discussion of sexual history  
 **word count** : 6,945

* * *

 **ix.**

They're sitting on a cement wall overlooking the skate park. Maya isn't sure how Zay finds her, but he always does. Showing up unexpectedly and reminding her that they're friends, or on their way to being so.

"All right, it's your turn."

Maya looks over at Zay, a brow raised, and pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up to perch atop her head. "My turn for what?"

"I need some _advice_ ," he tells her, shoulders slumped. "So I asked Vanessa to the prom, right—?"

"Vanessa Kinney? Like, head _cheerleader_ Vanessa Kinney?"

"Yeah! See, we've had this on and off thing since middle school. At first she didn't like me, said I was too pushy and needy and blah, blah, blah. Girl wasn't wrong. I was _desperate_. But anyway, things changed and she got to liking me. But we've never really made things official. We go out sometimes, do our thing, but then she's back at school and suddenly I'm a ghost. Now I'm not saying we need to shout it from the rooftops or anything, but she could at least acknowledge me in the halls."

He sighs, shaking his head. "So I asked her, I said, 'Vanessa, what _are_ we?' And she says, 'We are what we are right here, right now.'" He tosses his hands up. "What the hell's that even mean, right? So I say, 'Well what are we tomorrow, or five minutes from now, or in a couple months, when we're supposed to be all dressed up and cutting a rug at the prom?' And she shuts me _down_. She says, 'We're not going to prom. I'm going with Tracey and the girls. No dates.' But I know for a _fact_ that Tracey is going with Ernie. And at least half those girls got dates. So is she just playin' me or is there something I'm missing, or what?"

Maya sucked on the straw of her slurpee, watching Zay's arms move around animatedly as he spoke. When he was done, she pops the straw free of her cold lips and says, "Why do you want to go with her?"

" _Because_ … She— She's _Vanessa_."

"And?"

"What do you mean _and_?" He frowns. "It's me and Vanessa. Do you know how hard it was to get her to like me in the first place? There was this whole weird thing where Riley pretended she was my girlfriend and she was jealous of Vanessa but Vanessa saw right through it. She said it was sweet that my friend wanted to help me out so much, so she gave me a chance."

"A chance to do what?"

"To— To _woo_ her, damn, I don't know. Did you hear even half of what I told you?" he sighs.

"I heard all of it. I'm just wondering how much _you_ heard."

His brow furrows.

Maya shrugs. "Look, I don't want to poke holes, but… Are you really _happy_ with Vanessa? I mean, you said it yourself, it was hard getting her to like you; she made you sound like a weird creep. And maybe you were, I don't know. But I do know what it feels like to be ignored or forgotten, and it sounds like Vanessa isn't putting half as much into your kinda-sorta relationship as you are. So, I guess what it really comes down to is, are you happy? Does she make you happy or does the _idea_ of her make you think you _should_ be with her?"

He stares at her a long moment, and then blinks. "All right. I'm gonna need a minute on that."

Maya snorts. "Take all the time you need." She puts her drink down then and grabs her board up. "I'll be back in a few."

He nods at her, brow still furrowed in thought, and Maya takes that as a good sign. Maybe she helped, or maybe she didn't, but she did her best. That's all a friend can expect, right?

* * *

 **…**

* * *

In the hallways between classes and during her first break, Maya is all Riley's. She's pretty sure the girl has staked a claim on her.

Meeting Maya just outside her classroom door, she hooks her arm in Maya's, walking toward Maya's locker as they talk.

"So. Bonfire, this weekend?" Riley proposed. "We're going down to the lake. It'll be fun!"

Maya's brows hike. "Sure. Uh, probably. I don't know what my work schedule is like."

"Okay, well, usually we go on Saturday. We get there in the afternoon, set things up, roast hot dogs and marshmallows and, my personal favorite, _s'mores._ I don't know how you feel about drinking, but there'll be beer and Coke and water. If the weather's warm enough, we can even go swimming. Just, maybe before we drink. One year, Smackle got drunk and decided skinny dipping was a great idea." She waves a hand, smiling. "She said it was for scientific purposes, but once she starts drinking, she just uses that as an excuse to get crazy."

"So I'll finally get to meet the famed Smackle? Cool."

"Yeah! She goes to a private school, which sucks. Well, for us anyway. But she loves it. You'll like her, I promise."

"Okay. Well, like I said, if I don't have to work, I'll be there."

" _Yay_ ," Riley exclaims, wiggling her hips side to side. "It'll be great to have another girl there. We're always outnumbered."

Maya snorts. "Happy to help."

"I can't wait. It's going to be so much fun." Riley grins as she goes on about the bonfire and a few crazy things Smackle has done in the past. Maya finds her cheeks straining against the stretch of her smile as she laughs. But she embraces it, because she's happy, and excited, and she really hopes she doesn't have work that Saturday.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"You can't just _change_ the schedule, mom." Maya rolls her eyes. "It's fine. It sucks, but it's fine. I'm sure there'll be other bonfires." She shrugs, even as her heart sinks down into her stomach like lead.

"Don't be silly!" Katy waves a dismissive hand, dripping with soapy water from the sink of dishes she had it buried in. "Brenda owes me a favor; I'll just ask her to work Saturday's shift for you. Honey, you should go! This'll be good for you. You're making all these new friends and getting out there. I haven't seen you this happy in ages."

"Are you sure?" Maya's feet shift awkwardly as she takes a plate and dries it off to be put away in the cupboard. "You won't get in trouble for it or something?"

With a scoff, she shakes her head. "You kidding? They don't care who works the shift as long as _someone_ works it. Go on, have fun. You've only got so much time left before you'll be in New York and things are gonna be a whole lot different then."

Maya busies herself drying a mug so she doesn't have to talk about New York. "Thanks, mom. For trading in a favor with Brenda."

"Of course!" Katy smiles at her. "I can't fix everything, babygirl. But sometimes I can swoop in and save the day, hey?"

"Yeah." Maya nods. "I appreciate it."

"I know." Leaning over then, Katy bumps Maya's hip with her own. "You just have enough fun for both of us and it'll be worth it."

Maya smiles, and vows to do just that.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It's Zay who drives her out to the lake. Lucas had a last minute thing with his mom, and Riley was already on the way, her SUV filled with gear, food, Smackle and Farkle. Two people Maya hasn't yet met and is feeling just a little nervous about.

"They're crazy smart, but they're nothing to get worked up about. Farkle's a good dude. Protective of his friends, maybe a little territorial at times, but a good dude all the same. You'll like him. And Smackle, she's strange as hell, but it's a likeable strange, y'know?"

"That's… encouraging… I guess." She scrubs her fingers through her hair, dragging it up into a high ponytail. "When you say ' _protective_ '…"

"I mean protective. He was picked on a bit in middle school. Hard being that smart, y'know? Before me and Lucas, it was just him and Riley. He holds on tight to his friends. Just how he is."

"Okay, I get that. You find good friends, you wanna hold on to them."

"Yeah, you might wanna take a note outta that book, huh?"

Maya's brow furrows. "You trying to get at something, Babineaux?"

"No, just sayin'… You got high walls is all."

"High walls," she repeats, frowning now.

"Yeah, you know, you keep people at arm's length. You're like a turtle, you got a hard shell and it ain't easy crackin' through it."

"I'm pretty sure if you take the shell off a turtle, it'll die. Isn't it connected to the spine…?"

"See, you and the eggheads are gonna get on fine." He shakes his head. "It was a metaphor, Hart, keep up."

Rolling her eyes, she sinks back in her seat. "All right, fine. So I can be a little… distant." She shrugs. "It's just different for me. I didn't grow up like you guys did."

"Like we did? Hey, my parents divorced before I can even remember. Don't lump me in with the Brady Bunch."

Maya snorts. "You know what I mean. Divorced or not, your family is good. You've got a good life."

"Don't you? I mean, you got your mom."

"Yeah, I do. And I wouldn't trade her for anything. It's just… I look at where Lucas and Riley live and it's completely different from me. I mean, have you _met_ the Matthews? They're _perfect_."

"Sure, and it's strange as hell. Look, people aren't perfect. Life ain't perfect. Just because the house looks good on the outside doesn't mean it's pristine on the inside. Take Lucas. His parents are on the edge of divorce, his pops is cheating on his mama, he kicks his own ass for not being good and perfect and everything his parents and coaches expect of him, and that's not even digging in to all that fighting he used to do before middle school. I mean, you look at him, think this boy's Mr. Perfect, but you know he isn't. He's got issues just like all the rest of us."

Hitting his blinker, Zay turns off the main road onto a dirt path. "All I'm sayin' is that you can't live your life lookin' at what other people got and comparin' yourself to it. You got a good mama, some _great_ friends, a scholarship to some kick-ass art school in New York, and you gotta guy chasin' after you that'd probably fight a damn bull for you. I mean, yeah, the roof might leak and you don't got much of a front yard, but you're doin' pretty good."

Maya hums, looking down out the window thoughtfully. "Well, when you put it _that_ way…"

Zay laughs under his breath. "All right. Now let's put all the baggage in the trunk and have a good time, huh?"

Smiling, she nods. "Sure."

When he pulls his truck in beside Riley's SUV, Maya unbuckles her seatbelt and leans forward to get a look at the site. There's a pile of large sticks in a large pit, all standing and interlocked in a specific way.

"They do this every damn time," Zay sighs.

"Do what? What're they doing?"

"Trying to start a fire with _math_." His face scrunches up. "We got lighters for a reason. Just use 'em." He pushes his car door open and hops out. "Hey, Brainiacs, you forget your giant magnifying glass?"

Climbing out of the passenger side, Maya makes her way around to meet the group.

" _Maya!_ " Riley cries, before hurrying over to meet her. "It's been ages!"

Maya accepts her hug, laughing under her breath. "We saw each other yesterday," she reminds.

Riley throws her head back dramatically. " _Aaaaages!_ "

"Okay." Maya pats her shoulder until Riley lets her go and moves to her side, hooking an arm around her waist. "So, I see the fire's coming along."

"Farkle and Smackle like to put their survival skills to the test and see if they can light the fire without modern technology."

Maya blinks at the wood pile. "I take it their skills are a little rusty…?"

Riley grins. "I like to think that if they had more time they'd get it, but eventually Lucas or Zay shows up and—"

A loud _whoosh_ noise can be heard before the wood pit comes to life.

"See! That's how it's done!" Zay exclaims happily.

"—they're not as patient as I am," Riley finishes on a sigh.

"We were very close to reaching a hypothesis on our theory. You've once again interrupted the scientific process, Isaiah," a young woman tells him, readjusting her glasses and staring at the boy through narrowed, brown eyes.

"Well, the scientific process can accept by deepest apologies… Right after I roast a hot dog on this nice big fire," Zay replies with a shrug.

"That's Smackle," Riley informs her. "Smackle, come meet Maya!"

"We aren't finished here," Smackle says to Zay, before striding past him.

Unperturbed, he waves after her before returning to the pack of hot dogs he's opening. "You get any sticks sharpened, Farkle?"

"Sure, they're over here," the other boy says, moving toward where six sticks are propped up against a larger boulder. "I think my whittling abilities are improving."

"Yeah, you're the best whittler I ever met," Zay assures, taking a stick from him.

"I made sure they were all the perfect length for roasting food while maintaining a safe distance by using our exact heights and factoring in arm length and posture."

"You know my height?" Maya looks to Riley. "He knows my height?"

"Subtracting the additional inches you add by wearing cumbersome high heels while at school, I was able to deduce your height based on where you reach in regards to Riley's body. From there, I can assume the length of your arm. I admit I did have to make assumptions for your posture. I assumed sloucher. Are you a sloucher?"

Maya glances away before admitting, "I slouch."

"Great!" Farkle grins.

"Okay." Riley turns to Smackle then. "Smackle, this is Maya Hart. Maya, this is Isadora Smackle."

"Hey," Maya sais, nodding her chin up in greeting.

Smackle peers at her a few seconds, and then mimics her greeting, before looking to Riley. "Was that adequate?"

"It was perfect," Riley reassures, before looking back to Maya. "Hungry? We have every roastable food you can think of."

Shrugging, Maya says, "Lead the way."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

A half-hour later, Maya's put away at least three hot dogs and she's feeling pretty good. Riley is dancing to the radio, which involves a lot of arm movements and off-beat kicks, and Smackle is staring at Maya like she has something to say but isn't sure how to verbalize it. Zay and Farkle seem to be having a friendly argument on the other side of the fire, but after Maya heard the words 'star' 'trek' and 'wars,' she tuned out.

"Out with it, Smackle," she finally sighs, turning to the near stranger. "You clearly want to say something, so…" She waves a hand. "Say it."

Clearing her throat, Smackle turns on here seat atop the log to properly face Maya. "As Riley's only female best friend, I feel it's my duty to exert some type of possessive behaviour, implying that I'm aware of your interest in her friendship, but you can't have her." She blinks then, and readjusts her glasses.

"Huh." Maya nods. "Okay. But… what if we just _share_ her?"

"Share?"

"Sure. She's got a few male best friends, why can't she have more than one girl on her side? Better than pistols at dawn anyway. Besides…" She tosses a grin in a happily dancing Riley's direction. "I think she wants us to be friends."

"Friends," Smackle repeats thoughtfully. "And this option is something you would also like?"

Maya laughs under her breath. "I don't have a lot of friends. Or, I didn't." She casts her eyes Zay's way and then back to Smackle. "I'm still learning how to be a good friend, I think. But I'm happy to try if you are."

Smackle nods slowly. "I'm still learning too. Riley's been good to me. Personal relationships can be difficult sometimes. I'm not… I don't act like other people do. I know that makes people uncomfortable sometimes."

"Who gets to decide what anybody should be like? You do you. I'll do me. We'll find a good middleground."

Smiling slowly, Smackle nods. "I'd like that."

"Cool." Lifting up her can of root beer, Maya raises it in Smackle's direction. "Cheers."

"Maya!" Riley calls out to her, raising her hands up high. "Dance with me!" she demands cheerfully.

With a snort, Maya stands to do just that. "Coming?"

Smackle looks from her to Riley and then stands. "Sure."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

Night has fallen and the fire seems brighter and bigger than ever. Lucas still hasn't arrived, but Maya's enjoying herself and refuses to worry too much. He texted to say he was on his way, so she leaves it alone and focuses on the marshmallow slowly burning to black at the end of her stick.

" _Hey_."

She looks up as Farkle takes a seat next to her and nods. "Hey."

He stares at the fire a long moment, elbows resting on his knees.

"Something on your mind?" she wonders.

His mouth hitches up on one side. "That obvious?"

"I already got the possessive best friend speech from Smackle, I figure you have your own variation." She turns the stick and watches her marshmallow catch fire. She's not worried; she kind of likes watching it burn. There's plenty more to eat anyway. This one can piece away into sticky ash.

"Something like that…" He ducks his head a moment, bangs falling over his eyes.

He's handsome, she decides. Not quite like Lucas, who is classically handsome, or Zay, who radiates confidence and humor, but in his own way. It's more boyish and soft, comfortable rather than intimidating. His eyes pass toward Riley and then wander back to her. "She really likes you. They all do. That says a lot. It… It means a lot." He nods. "I'm not hear to scare you off. And, I don't think I could if I wanted to. I know what it's like, to get stuck in their orbit. There's not a whole lot that can push you off course. Anyway, if they want you here, then that tells me what I need to know. They're careful about who they pick to get close to. Who they tell their secrets to. Who gets to sit in the bay window…"

"She told you about that?"

"There's not a lot Riley doesn't tell me." He plucks at his fingers. "I think you're good for her. And, I don't know you, but I know Riley, so… I think she's good for you too."

Maya stares at him searchingly, but nods. "She is. She… I don't know. She makes me happy. Makes me laugh and… I feel like I can be myself when I'm with her. I don't even know who I am half the time, but I know that whoever I turn out to be, she'll like me. And that… That's hard to find, I think."

"Yeah, it is." He smiles back at her. "I trust Riley and Lucas. And Zay too. And they all seem to think that there's something about you, something they want more of in their lives. So, if you're open to it, I'd like to get to know you too."

Maya takes a deep breath. It feels like she's been gaining more friends lately than she knows what to do with. But she reaches her hand out anyway. "Maya Hart, nice to meet you."

He grins, and takes her hand, giving it a good shake. "Farkle Minkus, pleased to make your acquaintance."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"We should go swimming," Riley decides. She's sitting on the log next to Maya, her head resting on Maya's shoulder, and she's a little buzzed. "Come swimming with me?"

"We don't have bathing suits."

"So?" Riley beams at her. "Underwear works fine. _Come on_ …"

Rolling her eyes, Maya sighs. "Fine. Sure. Smackle…? You wanna come swimming with us?"

Smackle shakes her head. "No, thank you. Maybe later."

Riley hops up then, holding her hand out for Maya to take, which she does, letting herself be dragged behind the excitable brunette as she runs down toward the water. Riley lets go of her hand as they reach the small beach area, where the dirt gets softer, leading into the lapping lake water. She pulls off her clothes without any hesitation, leaving them in a pile where the ground is dry, and wades deeper into the water in nothing but her underwear.

Maya rolls her eyes, but follows suit, folding up her clothes on land before walking out into the water until it reaches her waist. It's colder than she expected but not so much that she can't stand it. Still, it sends a shiver over her, and she can feel her skin pebble with goosebumps.

"Riley?" she calls, when the girl has ducked under water and been out of view for too long. "Riles, I swear to God, if you drown on me out here…"

There was a loud splashing noise then, right before wet arms wrapped themselves around Maya's body. "Something _slimy_ … it _touched_ me," Riley cries, whining.

Maya blinks, and then glances back at the girl. "Riley… Are you naked?"

"I'm _free!_ " Untangling her arms, Riley pushes herself back and shouts, "You can't stop me!" before she dives back under water.

Sighing, Maya rolls her eyes. "You're officially cut off! No sugar and no beer!"

A splashing noise down the lake alerts her to where Riley's swum to before the girl calls out, "I am the Queen of the Lake!"

"Congratulations. Be kind to your fishy minions."

Maya swims out a little farther and turns over onto her back, floating as she stares up at the stars. It's a few minutes of mostly silence, aided by the water that covers her ears, before she feels something brush her hand. She turns her head to see that a calmer Riley has floated closer, hand outstretched to touch her own. She's naked as a jay bird and looks completely content with it, relieved of the constraints of clothing and at home in her nudity, confident with herself and Maya and the moment.

Riley turns her head to see her, a soft smile upturning her mouth. "I'm glad you came," she says, linking her pinkie through Maya's. "I hope you'll stay."

And Maya knows she doesn't just mean the bonfire, but in life. She hopes Maya will stay, linger, become a part of her wacky little group of friends and stay there, knit to Riley in ways that only her closest friends have and can. She likes the idea. It's reminiscent of a dream she once had, of living in Utopia, with an air conditioner and a fridge of food. Only it's not a dream. Riley is real and solid and offering herself up to Maya as a forever friend.

Maya doesn't like to say things she doesn't mean. It's a waste of words and time and energy. So instead of making promises she's not sure she can keep, she replies, "I hope so too." Because she does. Even if that hope might not grow beyond this moment. Even if they lose each other in the busy flow of life. She hopes that somehow this strange friendship she's built with Riley Matthews will survive.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

By the time Lucas finally arrives, they're sitting at the fire again. Smackle brought them down towels and they rung out their wet underwear (or Maya's at least, Riley's floated off somewhere), and rolled it into a towel. Redressing in their dry clothes, they huddle in front of the bonfire with their sticks and a bag of marshmallows. Riley, her head on Smackle's shoulder, has a ring of melted chocolate around her mouth. She hasn't been making s'mores, just eating the chocolate outright, with no shame whatsoever. Maya makes sure she's drinking water instead of Coke or beer though; she's had enough of both.

"You look cozy," Lucas says as he takes a seat beside her and plucks at the fabric of the plaid blanket she has wrapped around her shoulders.

"Went swimming."

"Yeah?" His brows hike. "How's the water?"

"Still a little cold, but it wasn't bad." She nods her chin toward where Zay and Farkle are sitting. "Farkle whittled us all sticks, based on our height and everything."

Lucas grins. "I'm not surprised."

"You get everything done with your mom?" she wonders.

"Yeah. It was only supposed to be some running around, but she wanted to talk." His gaze falls on the fire. "She wanted to know how I was dealing with everything, if I was doing all right."

"What'd you say?"

"That I was getting by… That I had good friends… And that I'd support her, whatever she decides to do."

Maya nods, and draws her stick back, poking at her brown marshmallow to check how soft it is.

"Here." Lucas digs out a graham cracker and tops it with a piece of chocolate. As she holds the marshmallow out for him, he takes another cracker and makes it into a s'more. He takes a bite out of it before he hands it to her.

" _Hey!_ "

He grins, licking melted chocolate from his lips. "Joint effort. Don't I get to enjoy the rewards too?"

Maya rolls her eyes. "Not when chocolate's involved. Get your own, Friar."

He laughs lightly, and stares down at her, the firelight sending shadows dancing over his face. "You look happy."

Maya shrugs. "I had fun. I made some progress with Farkle and Smackle. It feels good." She looks down, and away. "Wasn't so long ago I didn't really have any friends, now it feels like I have more than I know what to do with."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No." She looks back at him. "No, it's just… I don't know. I guess I keep wondering when the rug'll get pulled."

He frowns, a brow raised.

Maya offers a faint, bitter smile. "Everything good has to end sometime."

"Says who?"

She stares up at him, handsome and genuine, and there's a part of her that wants to tell him life is cruel, and it likes to let them get attached to something before it tears it away. But the fire is warm and the night's been good and she's surrounded by people she likes. So she doesn't shatter the hope that lingers around him like a fog of good intentions; instead, she just shakes her head, and hands him what's left of her s'more.

He takes it with sticky fingers, and pops it into his mouth, leaving a few crumbs behind on his chin. She wipes them away for him, thumb resting against his chin, and he looks down at her, warm and steady. And she could lean in, she could find out if he tastes like chocolate and marshmallow and heat and friendship and hope. But instead, he just lingers and stares back and wonders.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

The later it gets, the quieter they all become. Smackle is dancing by herself by the radio; the sound of her feet shuffling against the dirt seems louder than the music. Her hair swings and her glasses inch down her nose, her eyes close and her arms outstretch toward nothing in particular. Zay watches her, a funny smile on his face, while he sits with his back against a log and ukulele in his lap, fingers absently plucking at the strings. Riley has fallen asleep, leaning against Farkle as he stokes the fire, an arm around her back to keep her steady.

Maya and Lucas sit together; she can feel the heat of his thigh against her own. The log is long enough that there could be plenty of space between them, but somehow they're pressed together tight. It's a good metaphor for life, she supposes. For how they came together in the first place. There was miles between them, the weight of different lives and expectations set up like road blocks along the way, but somehow, despite that, they just kept wandering closer, searching for ways to be near to each other. Even when they shouldn't.

"What're you doing tomorrow?" he wonders.

She looks over at him. "Breakfast with my mom, then I thought I'd get some painting done."

He nods. "Anything I know?"

She shakes her head. "No, just a few old pieces I keep in my closet. I've got a lot of unfinished canvases that I break out when the _muse_ feels like taking pity on me."

He smiles. "So your muse is cooperating then?"

"She's in a good mood." Tipping her head back, she admires the stars and breathes in the smoky scent of the fire. "I needed this. Sometimes I get caught up with school and work and I forget how beautiful things are."

"I find that hard to believe."

Dropping her gaze back to him, she raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You see yourself everyday. You see your face and your eyes in the mirror every morning… How could you possibly miss that kind of beauty?"

Maya's heart stutters, and climbs up her throat for a moment. Her breath catches until she swallows, and her gaze falls. "I'm not… I mean, I don't…" She shakes her head. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." His mouth turns up at the corners. "Doesn't make it any less true."

She reaches up, pushing her hair back behind her ears. "I don't know what to say."

He laughs lightly. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Rolling her eyes, she gives him a light shove. "Shut up."

Lucas grins, and catches her hand, folding their fingers together and resting it in his lap, his thumb brushing along the top of her knuckles. "I don't see the world the way you do, like an artist. It's all just… what it is. But I know you're beautiful, Maya, and not just physically. You've got a good heart. Maybe a little bruised, but… still strong and _loud_ and yeah, beautiful."

Maya bit her lip, staring up at him. "You shouldn't say things like that," she murmurs.

"Why?"

"Because… I might start to believe you."

He nods, before telling her, quite earnestly, " _Good_."

* * *

 **…**

* * *

It's late when they pack everything away. A sleepy Riley hugs her tight and makes them twist at the hips before she plants a sloppy kiss on Maya's cheek and releases her, walking away to climb into, and sprawl across the backseat of, her car. An amused Farkle waves at her before he climbs into the driver's seat to take himself and Riley home.

"We should set up another time to 'hang out,'" Smackle tells Maya, a folded plaid blanket and the radio in her hands. "I'd like to get to know you better, Maya Hart, preferably in a setting where neither of us has been drinking alcohol."

Maya grins. "Sure. We'll get lunch later this week. I'll get your number from Riley, text you the details."

Smackle nods, appeased. "Come along, Isaiah," she calls, before walking toward where he parked.

"You two good?" Zay wonders. He has the cooler with the rest of the food and drinks in it, the trunk of his SUV open and waiting.

"Yeah, we're fine." Maya waves her hand. "See you Monday?"

"All right." He nods at them before walking off, bickering lightheartedly with Smackle when he reaches her.

Maya turns to watch Lucas as decides on how best to put out the fire. He's not in a hurry, so she takes a seat on the log and looks up at the sky. The stars seem so bright tonight, and her fingers itch for a paintbrush. She's not sure how much time passes before he asks her, "Ready?"

When she looks up, the fire is doused completely, nothing but smoke filtering up into the night sky.

"Mmmhmm." She stands, and follows him to his truck, hopping up into the passenger seat.

The first half of the ride in is spent in a comfortable quiet. The radio is a low background buzz; she hardly notices what song is playing. Her underwear is rolled up in a damp towel on the floor, beside her shucked boots, stuffed with her socks. She's laid out on her back, her knees against the door and her head nearly meeting his hip.

"Hey?"

He looks down at her, mouth tugging into a smile. "Hey."

"You remember when you told me every girl you kissed?"

He blinks. "Yeah…"

"There were five."

He nods.

"Six."

"Six," he repeats, not a question, just like he's tasting it on his tongue. "Can I ask who?"

"The first boy I kissed was Brandon Knight. I was thirteen. We've lived in the same trailer park for as long as I can remember. I've seen him around just about every day of my life. He was familiar and nice and I didn't have any feelings for him outside of that, so it was safe, you know? I knew he wouldn't break my heart." She pauses, remembering how simple it was back then. How his fingers tipped her chin up just a little and he stared into her eyes, waiting for her to tell him it was okay. "It only lasted a few seconds. But it was nice. Soft. And then he just smiled and told me I was going to be a heartbreaker. I told him he was wrong. But he laughed, like he knew something I didn't, and he walked away."

Lucas hums, his eyes on the road ahead.

"The second boy I kissed was Keith Jackie. Well, he kissed me. That wasn't so sweet. There was some drool and he accidentally bit my lip and then I punched him in the nose for kissing me without my permission and got suspended for a few days."

"You break his nose?"

She smiled. "I wish." She reaches up then, strokes her fingers along the underside of his forearm, following a vein. "And in third place we have AJ Booth. He was a year older than me. We met in a record store and spent a few weeks arguing about music and what qualified as a classic. He kissed me while I was yelling about Zeppelin… I liked that one. I liked him. He was a good guy. We didn't have much else in common except music, but… I was okay with that. I didn't want anything more than music anyway."

Lucas is quiet for a long moment, and she feels it settle into her bones. She knows the question before he asks it. "Was he your first?"

"Yeah," she says. "He was. It wasn't love. It was… infatuation."

"What's the difference?"

Her eyes met his. "I missed his music collection more than him when he left."

He stares back at her. "Four?"

"Michelle. She liked my skateboard. We spent a whole day hanging out together. She wasn't in town for long, just visiting family or something. The sun was setting, but it was still warm… She tasted like the pistachio ice cream she was eating."

"You ever see her again?"

"No. But I was okay with that. Sometimes people are just good memories." Her fingers tease over his wrist and then make their way back down his forearm. "Five was Cole James, at a house party. We were both tipsy. Approximately five minutes after we kissed, he spent the next half hour puking in someone's bushes. It smelled like nachos." Her nose scrunches. "I think about him every time I eat nachos now."

He laughs lightly.

"And sixth was Torren Jacobs. We met at an art exhibit, bonded over mutual family misery and creativity. Made out in a corner of the gallery until they kicked us out… He was cool. He gave me his email after, but… I don't know, I never followed up."

"Infatuation?"

"Are you asking me if I loved him or if I loved anyone?" she wonders.

" _Both_."

Maya stares at him, lit up by the glow of dashboard lights. "Pull over."

"Right now?" He looks around, checking the rear-view mirror, and then pulls the truck off to the side, until dirt is kicking up under the wheels.

Mays sits up, her hair falling down her back, still a little damp and tangled. He sits there, one hand still on the steering wheel, and meets her gaze. "Maya…"

She's on her knees, inches from him, and then she leans in. The tips of her fingers graze his cheek as she moves in close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips. "I've never been in love. I've seen what it does, who it hurts, and I don't want that. I don't want to be left behind. I don't want another name on my list of disappointments. I don't want to add another face to my dungeon of sadness. A kiss isn't a promise. It's not a vow. It's just a kiss. A moment. One I want to look back on one day and smile. That's all."

His eyes dart to her lips briefly. "What if it's more? What if you fall anyway?"

"I won't," she whispers.

"That's funny…" His hand finds the small of her back and slides up, drawing her a little closer. "That sounded a lot like a promise."

Her chest presses against his, and his fingers tease along the nape of her neck, coiling in her hair. "I can't be what you want…" She swallows tightly. "I won't let myself be hurt like that."

"I don't want to hurt you." His nose grazes along her own, and her eyes fall to half-mast.

She lifts an eyebrow. "You gonna fix me, Lucas?"

"You're not broken."

She's not sure if it's her heart that's pounding or if she can feel his hammering through his skin. Maybe it's both.

His mouth fits over hers, slow and gentle, sipping at her lips, parting and cradling. She breathes into him on a sigh, her tongue stroking the underside of his top lip, a teasing swipe. His breathing is shaky, but his mouth is firm and steady. He doesn't close his eyes, not right away. He watches her, takes his cues from her, while he tugs on her lips with his teeth, suckles and plucks, like her mouth is an instrument, and if he plays it just right, she'll sing for him.

His hand slides down her back, fingers turned down, dug in enough she can feel stripes of pressure along her skin. She leans into him, an arm ringing around her neck, and drags her leg over his lap, planting her knee on the other side of his waist, straddling him. She runs her fingers through his short hair, her other hand settling on his side, folding the fabric of his shirt under her palm so she can hold on tight, like the world might tilt and buck her off, but if she doesn't let go, she won't fall.

He breaks away from her mouth and kisses down her chin, nuzzling into her neck, pressing suckling, scraping kisses down to her collar bones. She'll look at them later, the little marks he leaves behind, touch them with her fingers like she's a canvas and his mouth has made art of her skin. She can feel him smiling against her shoulder as he pulls the sleeve of her over-shirt out of the way to bare more skin, but he doesn't go past that. He kisses his way across the top of her sun-kissed chest, up her neck and along her jawline. He kisses the shell of her ear and down the curve of her cheek. He kisses the corner of her eye and the tip of her nose and he hovers in front of her lips once more. She feels fuzzy and warm and dizzy with the way her skin buzzes. She swears she can feel each and every individual kiss still on her, like shadows that won't fade, the imprint of his mouth soaking into her, memories made to last.

His hands smooth over her shoulders and squeeze as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to her mouth. And he might be seven. The seventh person she's ever kissed. But in that moment, he feels like one. Like the rest have faded away. Forgotten. And maybe one day, years from now, she'll tell someone else about him. About how all-encompassing it was to be with Seven. How his lips felt like an extension of her own; how his hands left satin in their wake; how fire burned low in her belly and bit at the ends of her nerves like sparking livewires. Maybe she'll tell them that for just a moment, while he was holding her and looking at her like the sun rose and fell with her smile, she thought love wasn't the worst thing that could happen to her. If only it could stay just like this.

But a kiss is just a kiss and Maya knows one day this too will be a memory. She just hopes it'll be a good one. And that when she remembers him, her heart won't sport a crack that mimics his smile.

[ **next** : chapter ten]

* * *

 **author's note** : _sorry about the long wait. i got a little blocked there about halfway through the chapter and couldn't get past it no matter how i tried. but, i finally broke through and got the rest written up! longest chapter yet to make up for the late update. it was great to finally bring smackle and farkle into things; they were a lot of fun to work with. i hope you enjoyed my interpretation._ _also, lucas and maya finally kissed! hope you enjoyed that too. :)_

 _thanks so much for reading! please try to leave a review, if you can!_

 **\- lee | fina**


	10. flower bed

**chapter rating** : teen/pg-13  
 **warning** : mild sexual content  
 **word count** : 6,370

* * *

 **x.**

Maya doesn't like labels. Slapping a title onto something doesn't officialise it. Doesn't make it any more permanent. Labels can be peeled off, tossed away, garbaged just liked everything else. So she doesn't ask what she and Lucas are, and she doesn't name it either. They just _are_.

She warned him when this started she couldn't be what he wanted; she couldn't love him. Maybe 'wouldn't' more than 'couldn't.' And he hadn't fought her on it. He still kissed her. He still _kisses_ her.

She wonders what that means. That he's _okay_ with not being loved. That he won't love her either? Or is it one of those things that people do? Where they agree with you in the moment just to appease you, but privately think they know better. That you'll change your mind or have some huge epiphany that makes everything different. What could change seventeen years' worth of proof that falling in love only ends in heartbreak and misery? Of knowing that even if they love you, they'll still leave you. That even the ones who are supposed to stay, no matter what, will disappear into the night with nothing but their luggage and an excuse.

She doesn't want to be her mother. Crying over a man one second and cursing his name the next. Waiting desperately for him to come home while convincing herself she's better off without him anyway. Pining for a dream that died long before it lived; keeping a ring in a jewelry box as a reminder (or a warning); and raising a kid that's probably more trouble than she's worth, a bitter minder of a man who never deserved one second of her time in the first place. Maya loves her momma, but she doesn't want to be her. She wants to take Katy's mistakes as the warning they are, and the first step to that is knowing that love will only cause her more problems down the line.

So she won't.

She made that promise to herself a long time ago, and she's sure that she'll keep it.

Of course, some things have a way of happening even when we don't want them to.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

A Sunday is spent trying to help Lucas smooth out his skateboarding skills.

"Well? How's my technique?"

"Shaky."

He grins. "Well, don't sugar-coat it."

Maya shrugs, and drops down on the grass of his front yard. She puts her feet up on her skateboard and tucks an arm behind her head. "You know the last time I had grass?"

"Never?"

She points at him. "Bingo."

"You've got that dirt patch in front of the trailer. It probably used to have grass. And there's that flower box full of weeds."

"A far cry from your prize-winning roses, Huckleberry."

"Those aren't mind. Those are my mom's. I didn't exactly inherit her green thumb." Taking a seat on the grass, he rests his arms on his knees as he looks down at her. "She'd probably give you a few tips, if you were interested. Turn that weed box into a little garden or something."

"Posies, roses, and daffodils, _oh my_. No, thanks. I'm pretty sure killing flowers would be an art project in failure. I have enough of those."

He shrugs. "Never know until you try."

"Is that optimism I'm hearing? It itches…"

He laughs under his breath. "Okay. Maybe I'm just in a good mood." He turns himself over then, drops his head to rest atop her stomach while he lays in the grass on his back.

"Are we going to cloud watch?" She squints up at the sky. "I see a rabbit. A killer rabbit. He's out for blood."

" _Clearly_." His mouth hitches up at the corner. "Show me this killer rabbit."

She stretches an arm out and traces the shape in the clouds above. He reaches back to catch her hand and brings it down to his chest.

"Smooth," she murmurs.

"Thanks." He plays with his fingers absently. "I see a frog."

She tips her head and searches for it. Then nods. "Okay. Got it. What's it doing?"

"It can't just be there?"

" _Nope_."

"All right. It's… It's dueling a cat… You see the cat?" He points with his other hand.

"Have you ever _seen_ a cat? That's not a cat. That's a lopsided potato."

"Cats can't be lopsided?"

"Cats are majestic."

He shakes his head as he laughs.

"All right, I've got a hamster… and it's got the codes to all the nuclear warheads on the planet. It's ransoming them. What're you gonna do, Hee-Haw?"

He turns his head to look at her, brows hiked. "Can I send in the killer rabbit?"

She grins. "I like the way you think."

They spent the rest of the afternoon there, laughing.

If Maya could copy and paste memories into a scrapbook to remember for the rest of her life, that one would be pillowed in white cotton and smell of fresh cut grass.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Maya's not sure why she's doing this.

She and her mom don't have the time or skill to keep plants alive, let alone thriving. But she sees a sale sign as she's boarding past and before she knows it, she's in the store, looking at the purple petunias, and telling herself it doesn't _mean_ anything… She leaves with a bag of potting soil in her backpack and an armful of colorful petunias. She has to be careful skateboarding on her way home, and even hops off and carries her board when the terrain feels too rough and her balance is questionable.

She spends a good hour digging weeds out of the old, neglected flower box. The paint is peeling off the wood sides; faded blue chips cling to her skin. She sits on the stairs leading into her house as she reads the directions on the soil bag and goes through the process of transplanting her petunias into their new home. There's an old metal table that sits outside by the stairs; the legs are rusting in various places. She puts the flower box on top of it so she'll see it every time she comes or goes.

Maya has no idea if it's going to work. If eventually she'll just come home and find them dried up and dead. But she's going to try.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

" _Wow_. You know, I think I said something about cleaning _up_ your room, but this looks a lot like you're making it _messier_ …" Topanga's brows hike as she takes in the various sized piles of clothes in front of Riley's closet. "What are those? And please don't say 'laundry.'"

"It's a process." Maya points to the shortest pile. "That's for good will."

"Oh, see, I like that." Topanga nods, and then points to the medium pile. "And that?"

"That's my 'I'm not letting it go without a fight' pile." Riley smiles.

Topanga grabs up a shirt fit for a toddler. "A fight, huh?"

Riley attempts to look _serious_. "I'm ready for a duel. Duel, I say!"

"Okay, no dueling after dinner. Save that for another day." Topanga nods to the last, and tallest, pile. "And those?"

"That is Riley's donation to the Maya Likes Pretty Things Charity. So far she's our biggest donor…"

Riley claps. " _Yay!_ "

Topanga nods. "Is she also your _only_ donor?"

Maya glances at her. "Are you asking as a friend or a lawyer?"

"As the person who's going to give you a ride home with all your new _donations_."

"It's a new charity. There's no paper trail."

"Uh-huh." Putting her hands to her hips, Topanga shakes her head. "Okay. Well, you two load it all up and I'll meet you outside. And Riley, honey?"

Riley bats her eyes at her mother. "Yes?"

"Don't forget to clean up the _rest_ of your room."

"You know, when I have a chain of ice cream/salad fusion bars, I can leave my room as messy as I want…"

Topanga hums. "What a dream."

Riley grins. "Clothes, everywhere. Piles of them. Cushy way-stations. I can just fall into them, find a new outfit I didn't even know I had. It'll be a fashion adventure. Little mountains to climb and explore…" She sways from side to side, her head tipped as she stares ahead dreamily.

" _Right_ …" Maya turns and dips down, grabbing up as much as she can from her pile. "Riles? A little help here."

It doesn't take them long to load everything into a few bags and pack them in the backseat of the SUV. Riley hugs her in the driveway. She holds on too tight and for too long, but Maya kind of likes that about her. Riley doesn't limit herself in any way, and it's a strangely encouraging thing.

"Riles?"

"Yes, Peaches?" she sighs, rocking them from side to side.

"I think your mom's probably getting tired of waiting."

"Just a few more seconds." Riley drops her cheek to Maya's shoulder.

Maya laughs. "You know we'll see each other tomorrow right? At school. Right in front of my locker. You can meet me in the parking lot if you miss me too much."

"Okay. But you need to text me later, too. When you get home and when you're doing your homework. We can compare notes."

"We're not in the same classes…"

"So?"

Rolling her eyes, Maya pats her back. "Okay. I promise I'll text."

With a long-suffering sigh, Riley releases her, and presses the back of her hand to her forehead. "Go. Leave me here. _Alone_ …"

"You'll survive." Walking off to the SUV, Maya waves back at her, amused when Riley dramatically wipes away a fake tear and pushes up on the tips of her toes as she waves.

"She gets it from her father," Topanga says as Maya buckles herself in.

"I kinda picked up on that."

Topanga shakes her head as they pull out of the driveway and start for Maya's trailer park.

"You didn't have to drive me, you know? I brought my board…"

"It's late. I don't like you riding around on that thing, no pads or helmet. And half the street lamps aren't even up yet. They _should_ be. I might have to write a letter to the city about that." Topanga frowns. "Anyway, I don't mind. It gives us a chance to talk."

"Talk?" A leaden feeling weighs in Maya's stomach. "About what?"

She suddenly worries that this is going to go in a direction she's not going to like. Maybe Topanga thinks this whole friendship thing Maya and Riley have going is a bad idea. It's no secret that Maya isn't exactly _like_ them. She's a literal 'from the wrong side of the tracks' kid. What parents want their daughter hanging out with that? Maybe Topanga's just been indulging Riley in her latest charity case mission, but now she's going to put her foot down.

"You and Riley are pretty close. It's good for her. She's had the same small group of friends for what feels like forever. It's funny, actually. When Riley was little she was the 'collect strays' type. If someone smiled at her, they were her new best friend. It worried us. It's sweet, and I don't want her to lose that, but there have to be boundaries, you know? We didn't want her to befriend the wrong people. It's good to have hope, to believe the best of people, but at some point, you have to ask yourself when it might be putting you at risk. We always worried about that with Riley.

"But then she grew up and she met Farkle and Smackle and Lucas and Zay. And she became a little more picky about who she befriends. She's still kind to everyone, but she also knows that sometimes you have to put up walls, approach things with a little more caution, and protect yourself from things or people that can hurt you. It's a hard lesson to learn. And, as a parent, you want to shield your children from that. You never want them to see that dark side of the world. It's like with Santa. You let them believe in magic for as long as you can."

"So you're saying Santa's a scam? I'm _shocked_." Maya shifts in her seat, her heart pounding a little too hard in her chest.

Topanga smiles at her, but her gaze darts back to the road quickly. "You're not like Riley, Maya. You're different. You're a warrior. I think the magic wore off a lot earlier for you. It sucks. Seeing that the world has edges and knowing that they can and will cut you… It must've been hard for you."

"I got through it." She shrugs. "Wasn't always easy, but we did what we had to."

"I know, and I think it probably made you into a stronger person for it." Topanga reaches over and pats at Maya's hand. "You're a good friend, Maya, and I know Riley loves you. After she met the boys and Smackle, she decided that was it. Those were all the people she'd need in her life. And for a while, I really didn't think she'd expand that group. But then she met you, and she was so _excited_. Sometimes we get lucky in life and we meet people that just fit with us. I'm not saying they fill in all the cracks, because I don't think people do that. I think we fill in our own cracks and we build ourselves up. But it's always nice to have good people there to support you along the way. I think you're that for Riley, and I hope she's that for you, too."

Maya stares at the dashboard a second, and then turns to her. "So this isn't a 'you're a bad influence, stay away from my daughter' talk then?"

"No! Of course not." Topanga rubs Maya's shoulder comfortingly. "I like you, and I'm glad Riley brought you home. Any time you want to visit, you're welcome."

Relief floods through Maya and her shoulders slump with it. "If you're offering an open door policy, you might want to rethink it. Once I'm in, I'm hard to get rid of. I could empty the whole fridge before dinner tomorrow."

She laughs. "I'll take that risk."

Topanga pulls up in front of Maya's trailer then. She turns the headlights off and leaves the truck idling as she turns in her seat a little. "Usually it's my husband that's giving out the inspirational speeches, but I like to think I'm a pretty good listener. So if you ever want to talk to someone, I'm here. Whenever you need."

Maya nods slowly. "Thanks. I, uh… I might take you up on that one day."

"I look forward to it." She smiles. "Now go on, get inside. And make sure you do your homework."

With a huff of a laugh, Maya salutes. She hops out of the truck and pulls her new bags of clothes and her skateboard from the backseat. "Have a good night, Mrs. Matthews. And thanks for the ride."

"Night, Maya. And you're welcome!"

Maya climbs the stairs and waves as Topanga pulls out of the driveway, waiting until Maya's inside before she leaves completely. It feels good, knowing that someone like Topanga Matthews thinks she's good for Riley, and vice versa. This friendship thing feels pretty damn awesome.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Maya is introduced to Lucas' bedroom on a Wednesday. She's got a late-night shift that he promises to drop her off at the diner for in an hour. Her uniform is stuffed in her backpack, now sitting next to a trash can that sits under a small basketball hoop attached to the wall. His walls have a few sports posters scattered about. A wall of accomplishments that include certificates and ribbons hang above a shelf covered in trophies. There are pictures of him and his friends scattered about. Him and Zay with their arms around each other's shoulders, dressed in little league outfits.

"Now _that_ is cute…" She points to the photo as she walks to it.

"Uh, yeah…" He laughs a little awkwardly. "You know, if we're looking at my embarrassing pictures, I expect to see a few of yours."

"Sad news, Hee-Haw. I don't have any embarrassing pictures. I've always been incredibly cool. No embarrassment to be found."

He rolls his eyes lightly, and takes a seat on a chair in front of his desk. It rolls a little under the weight of him and her eyes bounce in his direction. He has a brand new laptop, a far cry from her own second-hand fossil. His school books are stacked next to it, alongside a cup of pens and pencils.

"It's a lot more organized than I was expecting. You hide the weird stuff before I got here?"

A smile stretches across his face. "If I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Smart." She tucks her hands in her pockets and rocks on her heels. "So? How are we going to waste an hour, Sundance? I was gonna get a headstart on my homework before you headed this way."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're really bummed."

Smiling, she pivots toward him. "Heartbroken."

He stares at her searchingly for a moment, and then holds a hand out.

She takes it, and lets him tow her toward him, until she's standing between his parted legs. Hooking his fingers into the loops of her shorts, he tugs on them, and brushes his thumbs across her the bare skin of her stomach.

Maya slides a knee over his thigh and climbs into his lap, her hands landing on his shoulders to keep herself steady. "Was this your plan all along?" She leans down, her mouth hovering just short of his as she meets his eyes.

"It crossed my mind…" His voice is deeper, bordering on guttural.

Maya licks her lips. Her fingers flick up and climb the column of his neck, lacing at the nape. "Well, don't stop now. It's just getting interesting…"

He hums. "Yeah."

His mouth slants over hers and his hands spread across her back, drawing her closer. Her chest flattens against his and she sighs against his lips. She likes this. Likes this give and take they have going. The build-up is fun. Exploring boundaries, pushing them, seeing what his limits are, where her own might be. Climbing up to that breathless high, petering on the cliff, and then drawing away and letting the moment die down.

Eventually, she knows they won't. They'll keep climbing until they fall. She's hoping they hit water instead of rocks. Sex she knows. Sex is easy. It's the other stuff. The way his fingers move gently over her skin, how she can feel every single one of his eyelashes brush against her cheek, the sound of his breath hitching, and the hammering of his heart. The way he sighs against her mouth, his hand cradling her neck, as he stares into her eyes, like he thinks she's smoke and she'll drift out through his fingers and dissipate. Like he'll do anything to hold onto her. It's terrifying and beautiful in equal measure.

He kisses down her neck and across her collar bones, teeth scraping at her skin, and his fingers slide under her shirt, trail over her ribs and under the line of her bra. She pulls at his hair and presses her hips down, smiling as he pushes up to meet her. She can feel him, hard, beneath two layers of denim. Teeth press down on her lip until it hurts.

It wasn't like this with AJ. Not with Brandon, Keith, or Torren either. If she had to pick one that felt similar, it'd be Michelle. The anticipation and the want and the dizzy feeling was close to how she felt when she was with Lucas. But Michelle was fleeting. A beautiful, fun summer spent with someone that Maya knew she'd have to let go of in the end. Sometimes she thinks she won't have to let go of Lucas. At night, with her eyes closed, in that place just before sleep, when she's completely honest with herself, she even wonders if she _wants_ to.

But everything is fleeting. Even this. Him and them and this moment. They'll be memories. She just hopes they'll be edged in lace and fuzzy nostalgia that makes her feel good.

The alarm on his phone goes off forty minutes later, and they're jarred out of the moment. It's a reminder that she needs to get to work and they need to pull themselves together.

He sits back against his chair, fingers still skimming across her stomach. Her heart is beating a little too quick and her hands are pressed flat across his chest. "Hey, what're you doing this weekend?"

She leans back a little, sitting on his knees while she scrapes her hair up and off her neck, tying it into a ponytail with an elastic off her wrist. With a shrug, she tells him, "I don't know. Probably hang out with Riley. She wants to do an ice cream crawl."

He blinks at her. "Do I want to know what that is?"

"We're already tried all the ice cream at our usual place, so she wants to see what other shops have to offer, see if there's anything out there that might give us some competition. I'm pretty sure it's just an excuse to eat more ice cream than should _ever_ be consumed by one person."

"But you're not complaining?"

"Hey, she's buying. And who doesn't love ice cream?"

"Anybody allergic to milk products?"

She rolls her eyes. "I have an aunt that's lactose intolerant, but she still eats ice cream. It doesn't agree with her and she pays for it, but it hasn't stopped her so far."

Lucas snorts. "All right, so when you're not eating your weight in ice cream, what else are you doing?"

"Homework. I have a shift Friday night, and Sunday morning, but my Saturday is free."

"We should hang out. Maybe at your place this time." He leans forward, hooks his arms around her waist, and kisses her chin. "Deal?"

She nods. "Deal."

"Good." He stands then, holding her as he does, and her legs tie around his waist for a little extra support. He smiles widely and presses another kiss to her neck, right over her pulse. She can feel it flutter in response.

He has to put her down at the door so she can grab her bag, but he takes her hand as they leave his room. He doesn't let go as they walk downstairs and through the house to the front yard. In fact, he doesn't let go until after he opens the door to the passenger side of his truck and helps her hop into her seat. And even then, he just jumps in on the other side, pulls out of the driveway, and takes her hand again. He folds their fingers together and rubs his thumb up and down the length of her own.

Maya knows she should let go, put a little space between them, set up a boundary of some kind. But it feels nice. And it's just this once…

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Maya is in the middle of working on a painting when she gets an expected visitor in the art room.

"Hey." Maya's brow furrows. "Are you lost?"

"I'm hurt." Zay presses a hand to his chest. "A guy can't visit his friend?"

"No… Just, I think the last time you were here, probably the _only_ time you were here, was when you were trying to tell me to give Lucas another chance."

"And see, you did. Mission accomplished." Hooking his thumbs in the loops of his jeans, Zay shrugs. "Speaking of Lucas, he asked me to give you a ride home. He's running late. Something about his mom and needing his help. Anyway, he said you'd still be here, probably playing Picasso, so…"

Maya snorts. "I'm no Picasso."

"Course not. That'd mean you were a knock-off of someone else. We both know you're one of a kind."

"Okay, now you're just buttering me up. What's up? What do you need?"

"Me? Need? I'm offended. I'm just here, out of the kindness of my very big heart, using up the last of my gas, to drive you to wherever you like…"

"Uh-huh." Maya turns back to her painting. There are a few more details she's eager to add. "Spit it out, Zay. What's on your mind?"

He lasts three seconds, and then crosses the room. "Okay, so I talked to Vanessa, right? I said, 'girl, we need to _talk_.' And she said, 'boy, no we _don't_.' But I was _serious_ , so I laid it out for her. I said I didn't want to do this anymore. This hiding and acting like we're not whatever we are. And that was the thing, right? I don't _know_ what we are. And I don't want any empty words about 'we are what we are.' That doesn't tell me anything." He waves a hand. "Anyway, so I told her we either needed to _be_ together or we _weren't_ together."

Maya pauses to look at him. "And?"

"And she didn't say anything."

"So…? Are you asking me what that means, or…?"

"What? No. I know what it means. I'm not an idiot. Look, it's like you said, if you want something, you fight for it, right?"

"Did I say that? I don't remember saying that."

"All right, it was _implied_. But you did say that what mattered was whether I was happy. And the thing is, I wasn't. I _wanted_ to be. I thought I _would_ be if she chose me. But the truth is, I'm tired. I don't want to be the one always chasing and fighting for someone if they aren't gonna chase and fight for me, too. You know?"

She nods slowly.

"Anyway…" He shrugs. "So me and Vanessa are done."

"I'm sorry. That sucks. Really. I know you liked her."

"I did. But, I like me too. A lot more than her." He grins then. "I'll bounce back."

"Glad to hear it." She points a paint brush at him. "You want to paint your feelings?"

"Hell yeah, I do. Where's a canvas?"

Maya smiles.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"Mom?"

Katy looks up from the book she's reading, glasses perched on her nose. "Hey. What're you still doing up? It's late."

Maya shrugs. She crosses the room to take a seat on the couch and leans against Katy's side, her head falling to Katy's shoulder. "Can't sleep."

Every once in a while, things just pile up, and Maya finds her head working overtime. Worrying about Lucas and art school and asking every hard question she can about why her dad left. She can't shut her head off long enough to sleep.

Katy hugs an arm around Maya and rubs her arm soothingly. "You want to hear about this book? It's a romance mystery type. Lots of cheese, but I like it."

She smiles. "Sure."

Tucking her feet up under her, Maya listens to her mother tell her the whole plot of her book. The soothing sound of her voice lulls Maya into a half-sleep. Eyes closed and teetering on the edge, she feels her mother's fingers stroke her hair lightly.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

On Saturday, Lucas drops in just after lunch. He's still climbing the stairs when he points to the flower box. "Yours?"

"That depends. Have they died yet?"

His mouth hitches up at the corner. "They're alive and well."

"Then yes, they're mine." She holds the door open for him and steps back.

As he walks inside, she tucks her hands in the pockets of her shorts. "Kitchen's on the right, living room on the left. Hallway leads to the bathroom if you need to go."

He nods. Kicking off his shoes, he moves to the couch, and she follows after him. There's a fan going in the corner, a far cry from the air conditioner in his house. She can't help but think of it; that all of his furniture looked brand new while hers might as well be on cinder blocks.

"You look nervous."

Her brow furrows. "Just lost in my head."

"Okay. You wanna talk about it?"

She turns her gaze up toward his as she leans back into the couch. With a shrug, she says, "It's nothing. You wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Sure."

They spend a few minutes finding something neither of them have seen. Maya makes a bag of popcorn and brings it and a couple cans of soda into the living room. She considers raiding her mom's junk food stash, but figures the popcorn will do for now.

The movie is nothing special. It's a mix of romance and action and she'll forget most of it as soon as it's over. What she won't forget is when they go from sitting up, leaning against each other, to lying down. She's sprawled on top of him, face turned to the television, but she's listening more to his heart than the movie. His fingers are playing with her hair and she can feel his eyes on her.

She lifts her head, chin balanced on his chest, and looks up at him.

It's not hard to crawl up and kiss him. It feels easy. Almost too easy. There's no pressure, just a strange fluttery feeling in her chest. Excitement bursting like tiny fire crackers. She forgets about how old her couch is, how little the fan does to take the edge off the heat, how very different their lives are. All that matters is how his mouth fits against hers; how she can feel his heart pounding in his chest and against her own; how his fingers feel skimming up her back, under the fabric of her shirt.

He turns them over and hitches her legs around his waist. His mouth travels from one shoulder to the other and back again. He stops in the middle and presses slow, sucking kisses down her chest, along the V-line of her shirt.

Delicate is not a word that Maya associates with herself. She has too many edges for that. But in that moment, that's what she feels. Small and gentle and _delicate_. Like lace and gossamer. He leaves hickeys across her chest, a string of them, like a necklace that will fade with time. There's no putting it in a jewelry box to be pulled out and tied around her neck. Temporary but still beautiful.

She pushes him back and buries her face in his neck. The hickeys she leaves behind are closely clustered, and look more like a bundle of flowers than a necklace. Carefully crafted temporary art. She wonders if he'll trace them with his fingers like she will hers. She wants to ask, but something bites at her tongue, the worry that maybe she doesn't want to know what his answer is.

She catches his mouth next, spends some time tracing the shape and seam of it with her lips and tongue and teeth. If she does it enough, she'll memorize him. Paint an image of him in her head of yellow and blue, and a cluster of purple.

Things become progressively lazy until they're lying side by side, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other, periodically kissing. She reaches a hand up to trace the arch of his cheek with her fingers; it wanders into his hair, along the curve of his ear, and down his neck, stroking along the nape.

As Saturdays go, it'll go down in history as one of her favorites.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"I have reconsidered my previous hypothesis and decided that, while the human body _can_ consume great amounts of frozen cream products. It likely _shouldn't_." Smackle is sprawled out on the opposite side of the table, a hand on her stomach, her mouth set in a grimace.

"You all right, kid? Are we gonna have to carry you out?" Maya licks her spoon clean and raises an eyebrow.

"Negative."

"Is that a no on the carrying or on you being okay?"

She pauses. "Possibly both. I'm not sure yet."

"Okay, well, let us know when you know."

Smackle gives her a thumbs up.

With her back against the wall, and her legs outstretched, Riley rests her feet in Maya's lap. "There are so many flavors. Who came up with them all? Is there a person out there, just thinking up ice cream flavors? Where do they get their inspiration? How can we compete?"

Maya shrugs. "I'm pretty sure there's more than one. There's probably factories of people dedicated to coming up with new ice cream flavors. Like Ben and Jerry's. They're always coming up with new stuff."

Riley slumps, her bottom lip jutting out in disappointment.

" _But_ …"

Brows hiked, Riley perks up. "Yes?"

"Can't say I've heard of any salad and ice cream fusion joints. So you might be on to something there."

Riley beams. "With our combined genius, we'll come up with new ideas as we go. New flavors, new fruit and vegetables. Maybe Smackle will make us some kind of fruit fusion. A strango or a bluenapple."

Maya blinks. "Strawberry-mango and blueberry-pineapple?"

Smackle sits up a little. "Your fluency in _Riley_ is impeccable. I'm impressed. As for your fusion fruit, I can't guarantee anything, but I'm always up for experimenting."

Riley nods at her. "That's all we ask."

* * *

 **...**

* * *

"You're talented."

Maya looks up, surprised to find Farkle standing next to her in the art room. It's lunch time, which means he isn't pulling a Zay from last week and driving her home.

"Hey…"

He smiles at her. "Sorry to drop in. I know how frustrating it can be when you're in the zone and someone interrupts."

She shrugs. "It's fine. Think I've hit a road block anyway."

Farkle drags a stool over and takes a seat beside her. "I've seen a few of your pieces in Riley's room."

"Yeah, she dedicated a whole wall to my scrap drawings." Maya feels her cheeks heat up. "It's nice of her, but they're not exactly my best work."

"That's probably why she likes them. The rough ones are more honest. You get a good look at the artist when they don't have time to smooth out any imperfections." He points toward the canvas in front of her. "Art is subjective. Which means it's harder for me to understand. I like when there's a clear message behind something. A why and a what that I can measure. Art is emotional. It's less fact-based and instead motivated by what you're feeling and what you want others to feel."

"Most of the time it's what I'm feeling. If other people relate to it though, that's cool. I started painting because it gave me an outlet." She fiddles with her paint fresh. "What about you? What do you do when you wanna relax or get something off your chest?"

"I used to just let it overwhelm me. When I have a specific goal in mind, I put everything into achieving it, and if I don't, I feel like I've failed somehow. And then I have a crisis. Or I used to. I've grown up a lot from that. I like to think that now I'll go to my friends, confide in them that I'm struggling or something's bothering me."

"Hard thing to do, sharing that stuff with other people."

"It can be, yeah. Makes you feel vulnerable when that's the last thing you want to be. But… it's cathartic. And once you realize they mean it when they say they'll be there, it gets a little easier."

"I'll try to remember that." She motions her brush toward him. "You wanna give it a try."

He half-smiles. "It's not really my forte."

"It's not Riley's either. All she paints is purple cats. But it's fun."

Farkle hesitates, but eventually nods. "All right. I'll give it a try." He pulls his sleeves up his arms and stands from the stool.

By the end of lunch, Farkle has created an abstract painting of, well, neither of them are sure. But Maya hangs it in her locker, because she likes it. Whatever it is. And she also likes how proud Farkle is that she keeps it on display. She has a feeling they'll be pretty good friends.

* * *

 **...**

* * *

Maya's at the tail end of a shift at the diner when she walks out of the kitchen to find Riley and Katy sitting at a table together. She blinks, but the image doesn't dissipate. After dropping a meatloaf special off at a table, she walks over to their booth, looking between them curiously.

"When did this happen? _How_ did this happen?"

"Riley dropped in a little early. She says you two are getting dinner. Anyway we bumped into each other on the way in. Isn't that funny?" Katy grins up at her.

"Yeah, super funny." Maya motions a finger between them. "And you're talking? Why are you talking?"

"Your mom was just telling me some stories from when you were a kid. She was going to tell the carrot story next." Riley pats the table excitedly. "Tell it!"

"No! No carrot story!" Maya frowns. "I'm not sure I like this co-mingling. You two should be on opposite ends of the diner."

Katy scoffs and waves a hand at her. "Don't be silly. Riley's delightful."

"Thank you, you're a hoot, too!"

With a giggle, Katy looks up at Maya. "You hear that, babygirl? I'm a _'hoot_.'"

"Yeah, you're a crack-up, mom." Sighing, she motions behind her. "I have a few more tables before I can go… Don't tell her the carrot story. _Please?_ "

Katy drags her fingers across her mouth in a 'zipped' motion, but when Maya walks away, she looks back to see her mom unzip it and Riley lean in eagerly.

Later, when Maya's changed into her regular clothes and is buckling her seatbelt in Riley's car, Riley beams as she says, "Ready, Lady Bunnypants, Princess of Carrotvale?"

Groaning, Maya sinks down in her seat.

* * *

 **note** : _i suck, this was so much later than it was supposed to be. i've been busy with school and work and my inspiration was lost for a while, especially with the show on hiatus for a bit. but it's back on and i've been watching. not exactly happy with the direction they're going, but it inspired me enough to write for this story again, so there's that. i hope you're enjoying the slow build-up between lucaya!_

 _thanks so much for reading! please try to leave a review!  
_ \- **lee**


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